Family Matters
by Hane no Zaia
Summary: In which Cross hates children, Timothy hates Cross, and an unstable Allen Walker speaks to shadows. Also, there's Krory. Family matters; because familiarity breeds contempt, and occasionally, love.
1. Hands Held, Pledges Made

_**Note:**__ At the time of Timothy's and Allen's first meeting (and Mana's meeting with Allen), their respective ages start out as reversed, with Allen at age nine and Timothy at age fifteen (approximately), progressing from there. _

_Furthermore, certain liberties have definitely been taken with the timeline, so in case you notice any discrepancies concerning that, then they are probably intentional (or not, heh)._

_This is the result of another thought experiment. Make of it what you will._

_**Last edited on April 17**__**th**__** 2016.**_

**-o0o-**

**Hands Held, Pledges Made**

**-o0o-**

It was an old building; not ancient, but certainly old enough to have seen the infancy, the gradual maturation and the eventual decline of more than a few generations. Events both joyous and sorrowful had left their permanent mark on the building; some of them had lingered more profoundly than others.

According to rumour, it was a tragedy that had finally closed it down; a most joyous occasion ‒ a wedding ‒ had taken a turn for the worst, leaving the bride dead and the groom crippled. Since then, the building ‒ a church ‒ had stood empty to all but those vagrants brave, poor or merely foolish enough to venture inside in order to seek shelter from the elements.

The church was empty and dirty; humid but not excessively so, compared to the outside, where the night's rain had only just ended, leaving behind a rising fog in its wake.

He found that he could observe the weather conditions just fine, even though the window upon which sill he had found his perch was dirty and fogged up now due to their presence.

The world out there was grey but gradually growing lighter; it told him that hours had passed. As far as the latter was concerned though, the gradually increasing stiffness of his neck and the numbness of his right leg would have sufficed as indicators of just how long he had been seated there, balancing precariously yet effortlessly on the windowsill, his right leg carrying the greater weight of his burden and his left one dangling slightly.

Truth to be told, it was by no means the most comfortable position. However, with his charge finally catching up on some sleep, he reasoned that it ought to be a shame to wake the other accidentally by making any greater movement.

At the sound of wing beats, he finally tilted his head, suppressing a slight wince as his neck proved disinclined to approve of the motion.

"Timcanpy."

He spoke quietly, and was immediately rewarded with two wing beats in quick succession as the golden golem swooped down to settle on top of his head.

"Tim?"

He looked down at his charge. Bleary silver-grey eyes gazed right back at him in confusion before abruptly turning to their surroundings.

"What is this place?"

"Nowhere in particular."

Those eyes turned towards him anew, narrowing slightly in suspicion. "You're lying."

A wry smile spread across his features. "And you're a serious pain in the neck."

The kid finally got the hint. "Sorry."

Minutes later found them back on solid ground ‒ or just solid floor in case one felt it necessary to nitpick. "How long was I out?" Allen finally asked.

"A while," he responded easily ‒ because there was really no reason for him to be more specific than that ‒ and finished rifling through their meagre assembly of belongings, withdrawing the hand to instead tug at his headband, making sure it covered his forehead the way it should. "Because you went a bit overboard."

He got a somewhat guilty shift in response to that, and all in all, that was enough. After all, pressing the matter any further would just be a waste of time and energy, given that both of them were far too stubborn to give in to just about anyone. Cross Marian had somewhat disdainfully referred to it as a fatal flaw to their respective characters. Truth to be told though, when it came to flaws of one's character, that man really wasn't in any position to be passing judgements on anyone, least of all on them.

"Well, at least I got the job done," Allen finally snapped, having shifted his posture to accommodate the noticeable shift in attitude, which tilted towards constant defiance. "Tim."

Frankly, Tim ‒ who was not Timcanpy but rather the teenaged Timothy Hearst ‒ minded neither the attitude nor the insinuation; Allen _had_ technically been the one to deal with akuma, given that he had dashed off in order to confront it.

However, it was just as true that Tim had been the one to deal with the aftermath, wherein an overexerted Allen ‒ who despite his age still retained the visual appearance of one much younger ‒ had collapsed and remained largely insensible to the world for the hours that followed, waking up only briefly during the ride to London.

If anything, then Tim had been stuck with a much greater part of the work. He hardly held much of a grudge though, having intentionally put himself into the position of caring for him. No one else had been even remotely capable and even if such a person did appear, then Timothy would hardly trust them enough to entrust them with Allen's welfare. After all‒

Allen squawked indignantly when Timothy ruffled his hair, and he scrambling away just as quickly, scowling openly now. "What the Hell did you do that for, you bastard?!"

Timothy didn't retort, rewarding the insult with a mischievous grin.

**-o0o-**

"You don't need to carry me, you know?"

Timothy resisted the resurfacing urge to roll his eyes; it was an argument much too familiar. "For all intents and purposes, I do, because I'd really hate to lose you in this crowd," he deadpanned, hoisting Allen up further on his arm where they waited for their train to turn up.

His younger charge looked somewhat dissatisfied, but opted not to pursue the matter, knowing well the truth of his caretaker's statement. "You're taller now," Allen noted, scrutinising him.

"I'm seventeen now; it'd be strange if I weren't taller," Timothy responded, adjusting his grip once more. "No offence, bud."

The frown that had begun to form on his charge's face vanished swiftly as it instead smoothened out into a deadpan expression of neutrality and seeming disinterest. Then, it was hidden altogether from his view as Allen turned head straight to get a better look at what was going on around them. "None taken."

"You sure? Because I felt you tense up just now."

"Shut up."

Hearing the other's tone, Timothy came to a pause and shifted a miniscule bit to throw a glance behind them. It took him mere moments to notice the black-clad figure standing at the outskirts of the crowd, leaning against a pillar. Turning back towards the tracks, Timothy then addressed his charge, keeping his voice low but casual. "Tim's still with you?"

He could feel fingers digging into his shoulder, tightening around the fabric of his worn coat.

"Pocket."

Timothy dipped his head slightly to acknowledge this as fact, keeping his posture relaxed as he turned back to look whether or not their train would be arriving anytime soon. "Good. We're boarding the next train."

Allen said nothing, but lifted his head slightly.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" Timothy mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. "I've got this."

Once again feeling the additional weight of the other's head on his shoulder, Timothy allowed himself a thin smile that remained in place as they eventually boarded the train. Then, after crossing paths with a white-clad and bandaged finder headed in the opposite direction ‒ first class, no doubt ‒ Timothy wiped the smile from his face.

Behind him ‒ or rather hiding behind his coattails ‒ Allen stood, observing the passerby with wary eyes even as they too moved along, set upon another destination altogether.

With some difficulty, they found seats for themselves, with Allen as per usual claiming the window seat, eager to look at the landscapes rather than at the people, though the latter also gained some attention from time to time, as was evident from the child's glances.

Timothy himself on the other side took the seat that was closer to the aisle, but he hardly remained there for long. Soon after the train had set off from the station, Allen had directed his young but keen eyes towards him, scrutinising him briefly before finally offering up the window seat.

A switch was made. Soon thereafter, Timothy's aching head hit the nearby windowpane as the lack of sleep from the recent night-time adventures finally extracted their long overdue vengeance upon him.

**-o0o-**

"No." Stubbornly, he stood, newly turned seventeen, arms folded across his chest, glaring outright at his opponent.

His opponent ‒ who was none other than his teacher ‒ gave rise to a dismissive wave, sinking further into his slouch where he sat at the kitchen table, sipping Romanée-Conti as though it wasn't ten in the morning. "I'll write a letter of recommendation, so scram."

"Don't bother," Timothy scoffed, standing his ground, glaring even harder. "As long as we do our job, there's no need to go official, is there?"

Cross Marian regarded him with clear disinterest bordering on displeasure. Then again, Cross' general state of antipathy as far as children were concerned was to be regarded as the rule rather than the exception. As a teenager, Timothy was by no means the exception to the rule.

Dirty brats; Cross generally referred to them as such, differing ages aside.

Either way, Timothy had had little patience to put up with Cross at the time. Usually, he did suffer the other's moods and attitude, not so much for himself but rather for the sake of another. After all‒

"This isn't about me. I don't have anything to hide. This is about Allen."

The glint in the other's eyes hardened slightly, though the slouch remained the same. "What about the brat?"

Timothy stood his ground, but shifted his posture slightly, determined to appeal to reason before resorting to anger. "You hate that place. I certainly wouldn't like it. And Allen‒"

"And what?"

Timothy finally bristled, but withstood the rising urge to pounce; it wouldn't end well, for him in particular. Knowing this, he restricted himself to elocution, even though violence would certainly have lain closer at hand.

"Look, _bâtard_‒" He unfolded his arms, curling his hands into tight fists to suppress the urge to claw at the other's face. "I might not understand every damn thing you've got going on and all, but that grandma ally of yours and companion dropped enough hints for me to know that Allen coming under the scrutiny of the Order would be a very bad thing. Oh yes, it would. If you send the letter of recommendation, then it's only natural that they'd look into our backgrounds and it's a given that we'd be placed under some sort of scrutiny‒"

"Look‒" Timothy forced his fists to uncurl, staring down at the crescents forming from his nails in order to distract him from Cross' continued and utterly infuriating indifference. "I know for a fact that you haven't been in contact with the Order – If you were, then you'd be living off their money instead of that of your sponsors. Your movements, along with the fact that you've picked up us along the way, are a secret – and if you send us to the Order, they'll learn what you've been up to and will probably start tracking you down soon enough… which is probably what you've been planning all along, but I won't go along with such a stupid plan."

"If our presence is somehow a hindrance, then I'll just take Allen and leave," he went on to say, keeping his voice and demeanour calm despite the rage still simmering beneath. "We'll go hunt some akuma, create a bit of havoc and divert the attention from you and‒ I'll train him – _properly_ – unlike what you've been doing, you _arsehole_."

That earned him a scoff, before his teacher ‒ who he steadfastly refused to refer to as any master of his ‒ continued to sip the wine as though Timothy's words had been of little consequence; a fact which probably held true as far as Cross himself was concerned. "What can a dirty brat like you do?"

"What can I do?" Timothy snapped right back, voice teetering on the edge of becoming an outright snarl. "Quite a lot actually, because unlike Allen, I aim for where it really hurts."

The way in which his teacher paused ‒ attention shifting to him and lingering there briefly before once again shifting ‒ told Timothy that at least some of his words had hit home. Then, Cross Marian downed what little remained in his glass, seemingly having come to a decision. "If you want to take responsibility for the brat, then be my guest."

"And the catch?"

Timothy gained another look for this, but he didn't back down. After all, there was always a‒

"When I need him, I'll get in touch," the other finally yielded, pouring himself another glass.

Again, Timothy found himself dangerously close to bristling. "And you expect us to come flying, just like that, at your beck and call?"

"Evidently."

No hesitation, as though this type of action was naturally expected of them.

"You're full of shit, you know that?" Timothy snapped. "But fine, if you ask for our help in this elusive mission of yours, then we'll turn up to provide assistance."

"However‒" He turned and headed for the door, pausing once he reached it, turning his head to catch the eyes still lingering upon him. "Up until that point, we are free to wander however we want, yes? Then, there'll be no need to involve the Order along with a lesser risk of the Earl being able to track you down; that'll be beneficial for all of us, don't you think?"

Judging from the wry look crossing the other's face, Timothy could definitely tell just what the other thought of him and his words and he turned around fully, leaning against the doorframe.

"Look‒" he said, exasperated. "I'll take responsibility for Allen; I won't let him get hurt, and I'll teach him to the best of my ability without interference from the Order. If neither of us are official exorcists, then we are also less likely to be targeted as long as we keep a moderately low profile… which we wouldn't if we went around sporting the same garb as you do, because that's basically the same as painting a big target onto our backs… I'll do my best to keep him safe, and to teach him to protect himself."

"As I said," Cross relayed, regarding him just the same as always; as a dirty brat that was ultimately of little use other than as a shield at best and as cannon fodder at worst. "If you believe that you can handle the responsibility, then be my guest."

"But?"

Cross removed the rim of the glass from his lips, smirking; a disquieting sign to say the very least. "As far as the Order knows, I might as well be dead," he proceeded to remark, downing what little remained in the glass before slamming it down onto the table's surface with a tad more force than necessary. "There are a few things I need to drop off, and since I'm busy being dead at the moment, I guess you'll have to do it for me."

Timothy steeled himself, particularly when Cross pulled out his trusty Judgement and began polishing the outside of it with a clean rag. "And if I refuse?"

**-o0o-**

"Tim?"

Timothy startled awake to a small hand on his arm, fingers digging into the fabric.

To one side was the carriage window, and it was dark outside; a telling of just how long he had been sleeping. To the other side was a hooded Allen, awake and alert, pulling at his sleeve now; urging him to come along. Timcanpy was on top his charge's head, partially hidden beneath the hood. "We need to get off of the train."

Though still a tad disoriented, Timothy gathered their things and allowed Allen to lead him.

They made it out just in time before the whistle sounded for the train to depart once more. It soon did, leaving them standing alone at the platform of a community that was big enough to count as a larger village but rural enough to lack any greater importance in the world, despite the castle towering eerily over it in the distance.

Even in the dark, Timothy found that he knew what he was looking at with little difficulty, considering the fact that he had visited this place not so long ago. "Why here?" he asked, hoisting the bag containing their things upwards, slinging it over his shoulder.

Even in the dark, or perhaps more because of it, Timothy felt the force of multiple eyes bearing down upon them. And, judging from the way in which Allen shifted closer to him, the other had definitely felt it as well. "Akuma?" he questioned, his voice barely audible.

Allen was now so close to his leg that Timothy could actually feel it when the younger shook his head repeatedly.

Despite feeling wary, Timothy took a step forward, in direction of the village.

Though reluctant, Allen followed, hooded and hiding in his shadow.

Determined not to make themselves look any more suspicious than necessary, Timothy extended a hand towards Allen, who despite seeming uneasiness took it and followed along as Timothy lead them deeper into the village, disregarding the eyes that still followed their movements.

Even in the dark, Timothy navigated the village without much difficulty. He found his way to an inn, only to find it along with a whole lot of other buildings boarded shut and seemingly abandoned, which was a worrying sign to say the very least.

Admittedly, there was still light visible in some of the windows. The curtains were however drawn, though some moved on occasion, giving way to the spying eyes of hidden villagers. It was unnerving to say the very least, but Timothy had experienced his fair share of unnerving situations, and this one did not even come close to being the worst. "Let's go."

"Where?" was Allen's immediate but very quiet response, barely audible over the sound of his stomach rumbling.

Timothy pointed off in direction of the castle, its silhouette sharp against the night sky, light emanating from more than a few windows. "There."

There was doubt being reflected back at him, but no protests followed as they headed off, passing through the village and into the woods that followed, riddling the hillside on the way up to the castle.

Once they had made it several yards into the woods, the feeling of eyes upon them ended suddenly, their presence fading soon thereafter. Even so, they continued onward for a bit before either of them spoke, speaking softly even though they were by all means out of earshot by then.

"I'm hungry."

With a sigh, Timothy came to a stop and shrugged the bag from his shoulder, putting it on the ground and reaching into it, finding what he had been looking for almost right away. Moments thereafter found him dangling a chocolate bar in front of his younger charge, whose eyes lit up at the sight of it. "Will this do?"

Allen snatched it, and Timothy let him do so, seeing no actual reason to take offence; they had after all had more than enough time to get used to and to accommodate each other's quirks, whatever said quirks may be.

As they continued uphill, Allen unwrapped his sweet, offering up a piece of it to Timothy, who graciously accepted it, popping it into his mouth. "What does he look like?"

Somewhat puzzled, Timothy sent Allen a look, but didn't pause. "Who?"

"_Tsukikami._"

It was a strange question and a sudden one at that, but Timothy saw no actual reason not to answer.

"Back when we first met, he looked older, kind of like I do now, except a tad more eccentric," he explained as they continued onward. "Nowadays, he looks like a younger me."

"Why?"

He shrugged mildly in response. Truth to be told, he hadn't really thought much of it.

"I think that in a way, he embodies my wish to remain a child," Timothy finally decided, pausing when he heard Allen's steps come to a sudden stop.

Then a quiet voice spoke out of the darkness. "Why would you want to do that?"

Timothy turned, looking back at Allen where he in turn stood, looking up at him, Timcanpy airborne and darting about, seemingly mapping out the area now that there was little risk of him being seen.

"Growing up ain't all that fun to be completely honest." Timothy shifted his posture slightly where he stood before continuing. "When you grow up, you get lots of responsibilities, and people start demanding more of you. I mean, it ain't all bad, but it's just‒ you don't…"

He trailed off, averting his eyes just the same before turning his attention back to what lay ahead. "On second thought, forget about it. It's nothing important."

For a while, they continued onward in silence, Allen once again trailing behind him like a shadow and Timcanpy tailing them in turn, the sound of his wing beats bouncing back and forth between the trees on either side of them.

"You don't want to grow up," Allen finally concluded, speaking quietly but with a great degree of certainty. "You don't want to grow up because you want things to be the way they were before."

"Yes."

"Me too."

Timothy did not pause, though he did send the other a brief look before once again directing his eyes ahead. "Is that why you no longer age?"

In spite of his own curiosity, he kept his voice perfectly level and neutral. "It's been nearly two years. As far as I can see, you haven't aged."

Even without looking, Timothy could feel the weight of silver-grey eyes levelled upon him. "You didn't think that I'd notice, did you?" he commented softly.

A quiet mutter resounded from behind him, as the steps tailing him came to another stop. "Didn't think that you'd care."

Timothy actually scoffed at that and stopped as well, taking note of Timcanpy's nervous fluttering. "Do you really think so lowly of me, you brat?" he snorted.

Above them, a gust of wind blew through the trees. There was a slight rustle from the undergrowth, though nothing of any greater significance to either of them, just like they were hardly of any greater significance to anyone or anything dwelling in these woods.

Again, a rustling sound was heard. This one however was significantly closer at hand, and it originated from Allen, who closed the distance between them in silence, reaching out to grab hold of Timothy's sleeve once he was close enough, speaking softly. "I'm sorry, Tim."

Timothy scoffed. "Doubt it."

"I _am_ sorry," Allen snapped, tightening his grip on the sleeve, pulling at it.

"Why don't you want to grow up?" Timothy asked, deadpan.

"Does it matter?" was the frustrated response that he got, and the grip on his sleeve tightened slightly before loosening, before Allen let go altogether.

"Dunno," Timothy responded, deliberately challenging him. "You tell me."

Silver-grey eyes settled upon him briefly before Allen averted them, noticeably uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. "Doesn't matter."

Sensing this was a matter of greater importance than that of reaching the castle, Timothy slid the bag down from his shoulder, depositing it onto the ground next to them as he crouched down so that they could look at each other more evenly, without either looking up or down on the other. Even so, his eyes were serious when he regarded Allen, who only pointedly avoided making eye contact in return. "If it doesn't matter, then why did you bring it up?"

Allen stood his ground, continuing to keep his silence and his eyes averted. Normally, Timothy would just have let it go. Tonight however‒

He remained in a crouch, his brown eyes calmly regarding Allen who shifted uncomfortably beneath the keen scrutiny. In the end, they were both stubborn. Timothy however had the benefit of a few more years of experience, and had learned the fine art of patience from dealing with the utterly infuriating Cross Marian.

Soon enough, Allen cracked, eyes flickering to meet his very briefly before being averted once more.

"When I'm old enough…" Allen spoke softly, voice barely audible over the sound of Timcanpy's wing beats. "When I'm old enough, he said he's going to take over my body…"

"Who said?"

Silver-grey eyes remained averted. Brown ones hardened.

"Allen. Who said?"

Finally, those eyes snapped towards him, slightly wide and pupils very much dilated, though the latter probably had more to do with the lack of light than with anything that had just passed between them. Even so, those wide eyes and dilated pupils did give Allen a very eerie appearance, coupled with the pallor of his skin and sheer whiteness of the hair peeking out from beneath the hood.

First there was silence. Then came three words uttered in a quick voice that bordered on a whisper. "The grinning shadow."

Timothy stared right back, imagining that his own appearance ought to look fairly eerie as well when it all came down to it. He imagined himself looking puzzled, because that was what he was. Temporarily at a loss as for what to say, he instead motioned for Allen to continue.

"He lives in my dreams now, but he said he'll leave them once I'm old enough," Allen said, averting his eyes once more and shifting his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. "Says I promised."

"Promised what?" Timothy finally asked, keeping his voice perfectly level and calm even though he himself was not.

Again, Allen's eyes turned towards him. "To let him do that."

"Did you?" Timothy questioned, and Allen's eyes once again flickered elsewhere.

"I don't remember."

"Since when?" Timothy pressed, laying his hands on top of Allen's shoulder in an effort to keep him reasonably grounded in reality and reason. "Since when is he in your dreams?"

"Since I…"

Allen trailed off again, looking at nothing in particular; really just staring out into the darkness. Timothy shook him slightly, and his head whipped back and forth, unresisting and still staring blankly at something ‒ or nothing ‒ to one side.

Gaining no favourable reaction ‒ or any reaction whatsoever ‒ Timothy opted for another approach. He moved his hands from Allen's shoulders to the sides of his face, turning it towards him and tilting it slightly upwards.

Like he usually did when in a daze, Allen offered up little to no resistance towards being manhandled, which was something Allen normally resented.

"Did you tell Cross?" Timothy asked, keeping his voice calm as he moved his thumbs slightly against Allen's cheeks, caressing the area beneath the eyes.

As intended, the additional sensory stimulation had Allen back to focusing on him. He stared right back at him now, a bit unfocused still but decidedly less dazed than previously. "No."

"Why not?" Timothy questioned, continuing his ministrations as a worried Timcanpy finally settled on top of his head to overlook the proceedings.

Allen stared up at him now, face as blank and empty as the voice uttering the words that soon followed. "He wouldn't care."

"Okay, fine," Timothy yielded, conceding the point because Cross Marian was an outright bastard who was severely stunted as far as basic human decency was concerned. "But this shadow; does he talk to you? Often? About what?"

"He only spoke to me back when I first met him," Allen relayed, looking right back at him, his eyes wide and pupils so dilated that they looked dangerously close to consuming what little remained of the iris. "His eyes are round and glow in the dark."

"Sounds creepy," Timothy instantly conceded.

Following the comment, there was a rapid blink, followed by another and then…

"It is," Allen responded, pupils no longer as dilated.

"Did he tell you his name?"

The answers came more rapidly now; more certain. "No."

"Does he know your name?"

A heartbeat. "Yes."

"And you're positive you don't know him?"

Hesitation, followed by a slight frown. "I don't remember."

"So, no?"

No answer.

Timothy finally let go of Allen's face and straightened back up, taking a step back to allow Allen some space. "Sounds like the bogeyman to me," he commented idly.

It was apparently the right question to ask, because Allen's attention snapped to him and it was focused at that. "What's a bogeyman?"

Timothy stared back at him with disbelief and no small amount of scepticism, Timcanpy still riding on top of his head. "You don't know who the bogeyman is?"

Apparently, Allen did not.

"Well‒" Timothy began, turning back to face the path that still lay ahead of them. "He basically is this shadowy thingy that hides beneath children's beds or something… or in their closets."

"He exists?" Allen sounded sceptical, but also a tad unnerved.

"As a figment of small children's imagination, yes," Timothy yielded, motioning for Allen to come along as he himself resumed the walk uphill.

With about a moment's delay, Allen followed, struggling to keep up with Timothy's quickened pace. "Do you believe in the bogeyman?" he asked a bit breathlessly, and Timothy slowed down some to accommodate for the other's much shorter legs.

"Not anymore, no."

For a while, they continued onward in silence. Soon thereafter, they reached the end of the woods and stood in the deeper shadows of the castle that now towered directly above them.

"When did you stop believing?" Allen asked, keeping his voice steady but quiet as he brushed his hand against Timothy's larger one.

"Dunno," Timothy responded, fingers instinctively curling around it.

For a few moments, they just stood there, hand in hand, looking up at the castle towering over them.

"Do you sense anything?" Timothy finally asked.

The response proved flat, as well as immediate. "Low-level akuma."

"How many?"

Allen raised the index finger of his left hand.

"Well then…"

They stepped forward, and onward; together.

**-o0o-**


	2. One Man, One Youth, One Child

_**Last edited April 17th 2016.**_

**-o0o-**

**One Man, One Youth, One Child**

**-o0o-**

"Sometimes, he seems so much older than he looks."

Brown eyes were levelled upon the former count; upon Arystar Krory the Third, who had been their travelling companion for almost a month now, following the man's not so successful breakup with his akuma mistress.

"Other times, he seems so much younger," the count went on to say, attention on the snowy-haired head resting on top of Timothy's lap, the rest of the body sprawled across the rest of the seat. "It's very strange."

"It's complicated." Timothy shrugged mildly, a book in his hand and Timcanpy once again perched on top of his head. "Simply put, he is older than he looks, but he acts older and younger than he is."

Krory ‒ privately and most affectionately dubbed Nosferatu ‒ looked, if possible, even more puzzled, prompting Timothy to explain further. Because obviously, if the other intended on travelling with them, then it was probably better to set the record straight from the very beginning rather than to start explaining in hindsight.

"When he was ten, he committed a taboo and got cursed because of it," Timothy relayed, without seeing the necessity to spill all the details, quite gruesome as they were. "The curse; it broke his mind…"

He trailed a finger down it. The fact that Allen didn't even twitch proved a clear testament to the quality of the sleep he was getting. For this, Timothy was relieved.

"He still hasn't healed, and in a way I doubt that he ever will," he said, moving his hand back towards the side of Allen's head, stroking it gently. "The scars; they all run too deeply for that."

Krory opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something, but then snapped it back shut, eyes darting back and forth between them before being torn away completely, settling on the unfamiliar landscape passing by outside the carriage window.

"I knew him before it happened," Timothy went on to say, taking the other's embarrassment, general awkwardness and social anxiety for exactly what they were and directing his visible attention towards the sleeping Allen instead, continuing his ministrations and actually earning a contented sigh in response; a novel experience, truly.

"Occasionally, he acts very similar to how he did back then‒ Other times, his mannerisms are eerily similar to those of the very person who cursed him in the first place."

Timothy hadn't really been expecting a response, so he was surprised when he got one.

"This person…" Krory began, obviously hesitant as to whether he ought to go on or not. "This person; do you hate them?"

Timothy closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. "Hate is a strong word. I merely wish he had told Allen beforehand– Maybe a simple warning wouldn't have made such a difference, but still I‒"

"You blame yourself?"

Timothy shrugged mildly in response. "I was summoned back to deal with the funeral arrangements for my old man… and arrived only in time to pick up the pieces."

He suppressed a shudder, because it definitely lay close at hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Timothy responded, perfectly calm despite the touchy subject. "I'm the one who ought to be sorry – I was, and I still am, and I'm trying to make up for it now that I can. I left his side once. This time around, I won't. This time around, I'll be sure to protect him."

Even for him, it was a fairly bold statement, but a true one nonetheless.

"He is precious to you," Krory stated rather than asked.

Timothy dipped his head slightly in response.

Again, Krory looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but ultimately retained his silence and awkwardly at that. Then again, Timothy supposed that if he himself had lived a similar life, then he too would probably have acted in a similar way.

"Have you been in any type of contact with the Order?" Timothy then asked, seeing that it was a question that most certainly needed to be asked.

The look of mystification crossing the other's face proved very telling. "The Order?"

"Black clothes or white, with a rose cross on their chests." He accompanied his statement with supplementary gestures. "The Black Order, a subsidiary of the Vatican."

The former count's response proved negative, which was a good thing and especially so since they were currently headed for Paris, a place where they were far more likely to possibly encounter Order operatives.

"Who's Emilia?"

It was involuntary, but his heart definitely skipped a beat.

"Allen said we're going to see Emilia," Krory offered up as an explanation.

"Emilia Galmar." Timothy dropped his gaze to the still sleeping Allen before shifting slightly where he sat, planting his elbow against the carriage window and using it to prop his chin up as he looked out the window instead. "We're not going to see her, but she'll probably be wanting to see me, unfortunately."

"If she is an old friend of yours, then why is it unfortunate?" Krory asked, carefully.

"She disapproves of my life choices." Timothy looked out the window at the landscapes passing by, though he wasn't really paying any attention to them. "What she thinks they are, anyway, since I can't really tell her what I really do."

"And why is that?"

He resisted a sudden urge to roll his eyes, settling for a slight snort instead. "For her own protection, mostly."

"Her own protection from what?"

This time around, Timothy did snap his eyes towards the other, narrowing them. "Nosferatu, if we're going to travel together, then you must understand: Knowing too little is dangerous, but so is knowing too much. And, once I'm done with you, you'll also belong to the latter category."

He received a stunned nod in response, and took it for a sign to go on. "Cross Marian is an exorcist general of the Black Order, albeit a renegade one. As accommodators of Innocence, parasitic in our case, we are also exorcists, but unaffiliated. And so Allen and I will remain, and if you intend to do anything different, then we must part ways in Paris and forget we have ever met." He levelled his eyes upon the other, unwavering. "Because if anyone, through you or otherwise, learns about us, then we'll be killed."

"Why is that?" asked Krory, eyes going wide and then narrow. "Why would you be killed?"

Timothy allowed himself a slight shrug in response. "Because we're affiliated with Cross, and because we know too much… among other things."

Though he was making an effort to fill Krory in on the situation at hand and of their respective circumstances, Timothy had no actual intention of going into details as to what those other things may or may not include.

After all, even though they were likely to continue travelling together for quite some time, there were still certain things that the other was better off not knowing; Timothy's suspicions regarding the true nature of Allen's condition was one of them.

"Ultimately, the Order is a religious organisation; it does plenty of science, but is ultimately ruled by the church and various religious dogma," Timothy went on to explain. "They have declared a Holy War on the Earl of the Millennium, and have sworn to exterminate his army of akuma."

A shadow crossed the other's face, for reasons that were perfectly evident and no less understandable. "Eliade…"

"You know now what they look like," Timothy responded, a look of distaste crossing his features. "Beneath the genteel façade."

The expression on Krory's face darkened even further.

"Don't forget that what you'll be dealing with are not humans; they're machines powered by human souls, born from tragedy. However‒" Timothy sent a casual look Krory's way. "You also shouldn't forget that they too can feel and think, and that they too are victims."

"For accommodators of Innocence, joining the Order to fight in the supposedly 'Holy War' is compulsory," he said, looking out the window once more. "Akuma's may be tools of tragedy, but exorcists are a tragic existence by themselves. Then again, I suppose that so are we."

"How so?"

Through the window, he spotted a lone eagle soaring in the skies, chased by smaller shadows that were far more likely than not crows harassing it in order to drive it away from their nest. "Having killed your first love already, do you really need to ask?"

**-o0o-**

They arrived at the Hearst Orphan Asylum unannounced, but not unwelcome. Though spontaneous, the welcoming committee proved quite impressing ‒ to Allen and Krory at any rate.

Timothy on the other hand looked far less impressed with this recent turn of events. Then again, it might have had something to do with the reddening mark on his cheek that he kept rubbing insistently whilst being chewed out by a ponytailed brunette in a high-collared shirt, tie, long black skirt and high-heeled boots. Of average height as she was, she still managed to look quite imposing, and seemed to possess quite a short temper from the looks of it.

"Would that happen to be the rumoured Miss Galmar?" Krory asked very quietly where they stood, blending into the background simply because everyone's attention seemed focused upon Timothy.

"That would seem extremely likely," Allen responded softly, keeping an eye on the proceedings halfway hidden behind Krory where he stood, seeing that Timothy's back would offer up little protection at the moment. "But I'm definitely not asking."

They wordlessly agreed that this was probably the best decision, and reaffirmed this conviction when Timothy sent them a positively searing look for not running interference.

However, in time attention gradually shifted ‒ or rather, abruptly snapped ‒ towards the pair standing closest to the door, lingering on a stiffening Krory only briefly before ultimately zeroing in on Allen where he stood, eyes widening slightly in horror at the direction in which the situation seemed to be heading. "Oh Hell no…"

**-o0o-**

A mildly traumatising experience and a few explanations later, Allen exited the Hearst Orphan Asylum ahead of the others who followed about half a step behind.

"I'm never going back there," Allen flatly announced, and those following exchanged a look and a smile, which in Krory's case proved very strained and in Timothy's case bordered on a grin. "Over my dead body."

Hearing this, Timothy sniggered. "You barely flinch at the sight of tormented human souls, yet you would rather die than endure hugs and kisses from old ladies?"

"I would," Allen deadpanned, and Krory looked torn as to whether he ought to nod sagely or be worried on Allen's behalf.

"Fine, whatever." Timothy whistled. "How about you then, Nosferatu? Would you rather die than endure hugs and kisses from old ladies?"

Krory averted his eyes, but seemed to be considering it. "If possible, then I would like to avoid either."

Tch. How positively diplomatic of him.

"Gee, good old women are wasted on you people," Timothy snorted, rubbing his still aching cheek. "Young and fierce ones as well."

"Hugs are tolerable, barely," Allen snapped, pressing onward. "Kisses are icky and cheek pinching ought to be outlawed. If people touch me without my permission, then why can't I just punch them? Or kick them? Scratch them? Bite them? See how they like'em apples."

"If that's your policy, then I can't help but wonder how I still have all my limbs intact," Timothy mused aloud whilst Krory coughed, maybe or maybe not to disguise a chuckle.

"It's different with you," Allen calmly responded, not even looking back at them. "You're family."

"Then what is Krory?"

This time around, Allen did turn around partially, looking the aforementioned up and down and then up again before seemingly coming to a tentative conclusion, tilting his head to the side. "The awkward newfound uncle?"

Timothy hardly bothered in hiding his amusement. The eyebrow of the topic of conversation gave a noticeable twitch however.

"Say, Allen," Krory then began, stepping over to Allen and crouching next to him, uncaring if the tails of his coat came into direct contact with the dirt on the pavement. "Which part exactly does Mr. Hearst perform in your family?"

Allen ‒ having turned to face him ‒ turned briefly to look in Timothy's direction and then turned back again moments later, apparently having reached a tentative conclusion. "Overbearing mother hen."

The aforementioned choked on his own spit, whilst an actual grin split the face of Krory.

"What?" Allen deadpanned. "You are."

Krory looked like he was at the verge of chuckling, but he stifled it immediately when Timothy sent a positively withering glare his way, effectively shutting him up before moving along to Allen, who flatly returned the glare sent his way.

"To be specific, you're both the overbearing mother hen and the awesome big brother?"

Timothy felt his face twitch slightly. "Try again."

"And you're one of my three favourites, ranking waaaay above my bastard uncle, my kind uncle and my awesome grandaunt."

"Fine, whatever." Mild irritation gave way to feelings of exasperation. "On a separate note, our train won't leave for several hours yet, so do either of you have any places you wish to see while we're in the area?"

Allen shrugged mildly whilst the former count looked mildly thoughtful. "Notre Dame?"

Again, Timothy found himself resisting a sudden urge to do an eye roll.

**-o0o-**

They managed to leave Paris without further incident and then continued eastward, obviously after leaving a quite generous donation to the orphanage, ensuring that if things went along as usual, then it would keep running for at least a few years to come.

They passed through the southern part of Germany, making use of the recently expanded railroad network, and then continued onward, crossing the current and former territories of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and onward.

They had just crossed over into Bulgaria when they encountered a woman at an inn who turned over a letter from Cross, though calling the thing a letter was probably a stretch; it was a notice, and it was written in code, meant for their eyes only.

"Cross's telling us to get our arses over to India," Allen swiftly deduced as Timothy handed him the notice.

Krory kicked up an eyebrow in response.

"What?" Allen snapped, waving it around. "It literally says _Get your arses over to India_."

Krory and Timothy exchanged a look, one with an accompanying frown and the other with exasperation. "Cross," they uttered in unison, and both knew well what the other meant.

**-o0o-**

Having restocked some of their provisions, they headed back to the train station.

Timothy headed their little troupe, with Allen and Krory trailing just behind him. It was after all the sensible thing to do, seeing that it had since long been established that Krory knew too little about the world and Allen, age and build aside, barely had much of a sense of direction to begin with.

Arriving at the station, they spent a few minutes loitering at the platform. They were not completely alone there, but there was hardly a crowd assembled when a train finally pulled into the station.

Moments after it had finally come to a stop, people began pouring from it; ragged-looking migrant workers from the looks of it, no doubt headed for the mines.

It lasted for a few minutes, going from a swelling tide into recession. It became a trickling flow that was eventually cut short. A small group of workers exited last; three adults and one child, all of them raggedy as far as clothes were concerned but seemingly in high spirits, though admittedly, the child looked rather sickly.

They were hardly anything special at a first glance, but Timothy in particular found himself taking note of their presence; unsettled by something, though he wasn't entirely certain as to what. Whatever it was, it caused Tsukikami to stir within him, which was unsettling at best and positively alarming at worst.

Even so, unsettled or not, Timothy didn't stop; he walked forward, walking past the group headed in the opposite direction, keeping his visible attention ahead even while remaining very much aware of the other group.

The train whistle sounded, and Timothy paused and turned partially, finding Allen standing a few steps behind them, craning his neck to look at the people who had just gone past. "Allen."

Allen abruptly snapped his head around, his eyes somewhat wide.

Timothy recognised that look. "What's up?"

"It's‒" Allen turned his head once more, looking back towards the retreating group. "It's probably nothing; just a feeling."

In Allen's case, it was seldom just a feeling, but this time around, Timothy had other concerns at hand. "Well, come on," he said, extending a hand. "Krory's off finding us some seats. Let's see if we can find him."

Allen took the hand and got on the train. His attention however seemed to linger elsewhere, even as the train began to move.

"Allen."

Silver-grey eyes snapped to him anew, slightly exasperated now.

"They weren't akuma or anything of the sort, right?"

"No akuma," Allen deadpanned, squaring his shoulders. "Just ugly-looking coke-bottle glasses."

With a sigh, Timothy permitted himself an eye roll.

**-o0o-**

Largely thanks to Timothy's usual resourcefulness, they made it to Cyprus. There they managed to board a ship headed for India. Thanks to the Suez Canal, they could travel by sea as opposed to by land, which would have been a quite tedious affair. During their time with Cross, both Timothy and Allen had experienced their fair share of the tediousness that was either on horseback for extended periods of time or on camelback for just the same, seeing that the railroad network in Asia was not yet as extensive as the European one.

Obviously, staying aboard a ship for extended periods of time also had its drawbacks, though the strain was far more psychological than physical in their case. Or rather, it was, initially.

The Red Sea part of their voyage had proven fairly uneventful. However, when they approached the Gulf of Berbera, alternatively of Aden, the deceptive calm had been shattered as Allen had caught wind of more than just a few akuma in the night.

Thus, they hadn't exactly been unprepared for the night-time assault. However, none of them had been able to accurately gauge the increased level of difficulty that the appearance of a Level Three had added to their already precarious situation, and just how difficult it was to manoeuvre around members of the crew that lay stricken and otherwise incapacitated out on deck.

If possible, then they would have liked to minimise the number of casualties. Then again, if possible, then they would also have liked to minimise the number of witnesses. Either way, at the time, they had had little time or opportunity to be very concerned about either.

Their attack and defence strategy had proven severely crippled, and even more so after the Level Three ‒ which harboured quite a troublesome ability ‒ had managed to take Allen hostage, securing him in a chokehold in order to utilise him as a human shield.

Timothy had found that his, Krory's and Timcanpy's combined efforts were not enough; their inability to cope had ultimately put them at the mercy of the Level Three, which would be able to kill them all off with its special ability without even relinquishing its acquired shield.

Truth to be told, that night should have been the end for them. The akuma could have and would have killed the lot of them and had indeed been prepared to do so, only to pause in mid strike, looking confusedly down at its acquired hostage regaining consciousness.

And if that in itself had not been surprising enough, that which had followed had definitely taken the biscuit and eaten it at that, when Allen ‒ face pale and drawn and eyes half-mast ‒ had spoken up, his voice soft but steady. "Stop."

It was a small voice, but it apparently held sway, seeing that the Level Three did just that; it stopped and simply stared at the child with what appeared to be confusion bordering on fear bordering on something else entirely, and it was the last which stood out like a sore thumb amongst the rest.

Timothy ‒ aware of the situation but unable to do much besides watching it unfold ‒ found himself experiencing emotions that bordered on something similar, alongside shock and disbelief that only grew as Allen ‒ still hanging in the grip of the akuma ‒ spoke up once more.

"What is the Earl planning?"

Seeing that the akuma made no move to attack any of them, Timothy snuck a quick glance off in Krory's direction, visually confirming that the other was still breathing. Then he snapped his attention right back towards the main spectacle in time to see Allen's feet make their impact on the deck after the Level Three had released him a few feet above it.

The impact was light, but though he made a decent landing, Allen looked decidedly unsteady when he got back up again. And, when he did so, he turned instantly towards the akuma still looming over them, further up in the air now but clearly staring at Allen as though he was something outlandish but also familiar.

"Speak."

The voice remained steady but small, though it was stronger now; determined. There was evidently something contained within it; some inflection of power, seeing that a response soon followed.

"The Master has ordered his faithful to hunt."

"Hunt what?" the small voice inquired, eerily calm.

Again, the response was near immediate. "The exorcist generals; the Heart."

Momentarily, Timothy mulled about the meaning of the latter, but he soon found that his attention flittered elsewhere.

Allen lifted his head, and the lights from one of the lanterns attached to the ship illuminated his features. "Why did you attack us?"

Again, an immediate response. "Because you're exorcists."

"Why did you stop?"

Timothy's eyes and attention flickered back and forth between them, because even though he was decidedly worried for his downed comrade, whatever was going on before him held greater importance in the present and possibly even in the near future. "Why did you stop?" was after all an excellent question; it was‒

"Because you ordered me to."

Timothy found his body rocked by an involuntary shudder, even as the last remnants of the previous attack had by then dissipated. And what followed only served to chill him even further.

"Why did you obey?" asked the child who was not a child.

"Because I must," said the Level Three that had only minutes prior had them at a definite disadvantage.

"Why?" The small voice; it was wavering at last. "Why must you listen to me?"

A response soon followed, but it was cut short by an expletive that was in turn followed by the akuma blowing itself up right before their very eyes, but mostly Allen's.

Though still somewhat perplexed at what had just taken place, Timothy quickly dived into action, making use of his newly regained mobility when Allen ‒ previously frozen up in shock ‒ swayed violently.

However, Krory ‒ who had at some point also recovered ‒ made it there more than just a few moments before him, catching the small body as it fell limp and lowering it onto the deck where Timothy quickly took over, surveyed by a seemingly frantic Timcanpy.

"Will he be alright?" was the question that followed after several moments as Timothy tended to the only visible physical wound of any significance: the cursed scar, that had at the moment of explosion split open from one end to the other and was bleeding profusely because of it.

Timothy didn't look up; couldn't. "I don't know; I honestly don't."

Neither his voice nor his body shook very much as he said that. Now, inwardly on the other hand‒

A hand landed on his shoulder, and heavily at that. He didn't look up.

The grip tightened, nails digging into his shoulders even through the fabric of his coat. He finally relented, lifting his head to meet with the eyes staring down at him worriedly.

"Tim," the former count insisted. "It'll be alright."

Those were usually his words; Timothy's. Finding them reflected back at him now, the more jaded part of him could not help but appreciate the sheer irony of it all.

"You're right." He turned his attention back to Allen, who after all the blood had been wiped away looked almost peaceful. "We'll manage."

Truth to be told, he rather doubted it.

**-o0o-**

Thankfully, it would seem as though his worries were if not unfounded then at the very least unnecessary, seeing that Allen was up and about and in a decidedly foul mood less than twenty-four hours after the events. He stumbled out of the cabin and out onto the deck with Timcanpy in a tow, holding a hand out in front of his eyes in order to shield them against the brightness of the sun, which stood high up in the skies.

"Yo," Timothy readily greeted. "How's your head?"

The response was immediate, and bordering on derisive. "Broken, since it hurts a lot and I can't remember why."

"Same old, same old, then?"

Timothy received a dirty look for that one, but paid it little heed. Instead, he allowed his eyes to sweep across their immediate surroundings, passing briefly over the members of the crew who were out on deck, completing their tasks in spite of what had happened during the previous night.

The members of the crew were frightened but thankful; Timothy knew as much from the words and actions that had followed. The captain had perished, and had it not been for the interference of Timothy and the others, then all would have shared his fate with no one the wiser.

Then again, Timothy privately supposed that it was just as fair to assume that their own presence had been at least partially responsible for the event. Obviously though, he was not about to introduce this possibility to the minds of the crew, because he wasn't an idiot.

"So, what did happen anyway? Krory looked like I'd risen from the dead," Allen said, rubbing the healed but apparently still irritated skin on the left part of his face, looking like he was battling a sizeable migraine.

"I don't suppose that you would believe me if I said you stepped on one of your shoelaces, tripped over your own feet and knocked yourself out, would you?" Timothy quipped, simply because.

"No," was the immediate and deadpan response.

"Why not?" he questioned, giving Allen a look.

"Because I don't have shoelaces."

Timothy visually confirmed that it was indeed so, seeing that Allen ‒ like the rest of them ‒ was wearing sandals. "Fair point."

That earned him an irritable look. "You're basically saying that I don't wanna know, right?"

"How so?"

The eyes narrowed slightly. "Because you keep trying to distract me."

Seeing that his game was up, Timothy saw little reason to keep it going, per se. "How much do you remember?" he asked, leaning against the railing. "I'll fill you in."

The response was almost immediate; short and to the point. "Akuma. Level Twos and one Level Three."

His confirmation of this proved equally concise. "Yep."

Allen reached up to touch his own throat, darkened by bruises. "What happened to the Level Three?"

"It self-detonated. It wasn't a pretty sight."

The reaction was immediate. "Oh."

"I think that you might've inhaled some of the gas, because you collapsed right afterwards."

It was a lie, technically speaking, and the fact that Allen didn't catch it right away spoke volumes of his mental state when he instead of calling him out on it had asked "But shouldn't I be immune?", to which Timothy had responded with a "That's what we thought, but who knows?" followed by a tentative "Maybe you had gotten too great of a shock to your system to handle it?".

"Makes sense."

Normally, it would have. This time however‒

Timothy directed his eyes towards the coastline that lay visible at the horizon. "Well, we're all here now and for the most part, none the worse to wear. And that's all that matters, right?"

The response that he got was muted; resigned. "I suppose."

"You don't sound very convinced," Timothy noted, giving him a look.

Again, there was a muted response; barely any response at all, as a matter of fact. Either way, it was a clear sign that another approach was needed, and Timothy knew exactly what to do.

"Look," he said, stepping away from the railing slightly in order to crouch next to his charge. "I'm sorry about the akuma. Next time, I'll do it properly."

Allen snorted. "Why do you keep taking the blame for stuff that aren't even your fault?"

Timothy shrugged mildly. "Because I wasn't strong enough."

"To do what?"

"To possess a Level Three."

That earned him a look of disbelief that swiftly morphed into exasperation. "Gee, Tim. It's not like me and Krory can even do that in the first place."

Timothy straightened back up and leaned back against the railing, once again contemplating what lay at the horizon. "Well yeah, but unlike me, you people can fight nail and tooth while I need a body to hijack before I can do anything remotely useful."

There was a brief pause; a beat of silence that was followed by an incredibly flat response. "Fair point. You really are useless."

"Hey!"

"Besides," Allen went on to say, also contemplating the horizon from the looks of it, Timcanpy perched on top of his head. "This time around, we were all pretty useless, but this was our first Level Three and we survived, so as long as we keep going, we'll‒Why are you looking at me like I've just grown a second head?"

The eyes stared at him now, snappy. Timothy swiftly averted his own. "No reason."

The eyes narrowed slightly. "Tiiiim…"

"What?" he finally snapped as there was a harsh tug on his sleeve.

"Stop treating me like a child," was the snappish response.

"You are a child," Timothy remarked.

"I'm t‒"

"Still a child," Timothy insisted, gaining a narrow-eyed response.

An obstinate "So are you" followed it.

"In the eyes of some," Timothy relented, before adding "But I'm still waaay older", because that was just as accurate as the first.

"You look fifteen," Allen persisted. "Coz you're short."

"Yeah, like you're the one to talk, pipsqueak. If I didn't know any better, then I'd put you down as nine, tops."

Timothy received a decidedly pointed glare for that, but he wasn't done; not really.

"What?" he deadpanned. "That's what Krory thought you were. He didn't believe me when I told him how old you really are."

There was another brief pause, and then‒ "Bet you he didn't believe you on your actual age either."

There was really only one appropriate answer for that.

A wry smile was already playing on Allen's lips, and moments later, a similar one appeared on Timothy's. "Touché."

**-o0o-**


	3. One Reunion in Agra

_**Last edited April 18**__**th**__** 2016.**_

**-o0o-**

**One Reunion in Agra**

**-o0o-**

"Tim, what is it exactly that Miss Galmar thinks that you do, for her to disapprove so much of it?"

Timothy had asked why he was asking.

Krory had answered that he was just curious.

Motives aside, Timothy honestly could not say that he appreciated the other's nosiness. However, since it was hardly malicious, he figured that he might as well go ahead and confess. "Simply put, she thinks that I'm a thief," he had said, accompanying the statement with a mild shrug. "And as the daughter of a police commissioner, she naturally disapproves. Frankly though, I think she's more pissed off about the fact that I took off."

"Why did you leave?" wondered Krory.

'_Why didn't you leave sooner?'_ echoed Timothy's internal monologue.

**-o0o-**

They reached the westernmost part of the Indian subcontinent without further incident, landing in the city the English called Bombay; the locals called it plenty of other things. From there and onward, they found themselves spending the greater part of their time ‒ _greater_ as in a measure of _quantity_ rather than in a measure of _quality_ ‒ in a much too heated and much too crowded train carriage headed towards the northeast.

An unknown number of days and hours later, they finally began what was to be the last leg of their journey headed northwest towards Agra after they had held a rock-paper-scissor's contest over in Allahabad wherein the winner would be allowed to choose if they should continue further eastward toward Calcutta down by the coast or if they should continue northwest toward Agra.

Personally, Timothy would have favoured heading for Calcutta, seeing that it was much closer to the open sea as opposed to the very inland city of Agra. However, since he had not been the one to emerge victorious, choosing their destination had been entirely upon another.

Obviously, Krory had not been the one, although the man had ultimately supported Allen's decision, far more likely than not attracted by the prospects of viewing internationally renowned monuments such as the Taj Mahal on top of Allen's ‒ in Timothy's opinion ‒ far more sensible argument that the train ride to Calcutta would be twice as long as the one to Agra, and weary as they all were of travelling by train at this particular point in time, this argument proved decidedly compelling to all of them.

Besides, Agra did have other advantages; it just so happened to be one of the cities Timothy knew fairly well, largely because it just so happened to be the home of one of Cross' most prolific sponsors.

However, with it still being fairly early in the day when they arrived in the city, Timothy reasoned that there was no rush to head for Lady Urmina's place. As such, he had brought Allen and Krory along to see the Taj Mahal, seeing to the fact that Timothy himself was in no greater hurry to make himself useful to Cross. With this action, Timothy reasoned that he would also be able to satisfy Krory's curiosity. However, as was proven, the spectacular view was not enough to distract the other from their earlier conversation.

"Me and my father never really got along," Timothy finally offered where they stood, admiring the architectural marvel from a bit of a distance. "We never really got along, but that didn't stop him from dragging me into the family trade. Or from shoving this huge stolen marble down my throat when we were about to get caught for that matter…"

"You got caught?" Allen piped up from down below, obviously listening in on their conversation.

"My father did, and by Emilia's father of all people." Timothy shrugged mildly. "As for me on the other hand‒ They found me at the bottom of the stairs," he then relayed, deadpan, before adding a simple "Didn't think I'd make it" to his statement.

"I got stuck at the orphanage after that." Timothy lifted a hand to his mouth to cover up a yawn. "I took quite a liking to the place. I mean, I would have stayed longer ‒ forever, even. But then I realised I could only do so much while staying in their midst."

"So you left?" Krory commented.

Timothy responded without skipping a beat. "I did."

"To become a thief?" Allen piped up from down below.

"Yep," Timothy affirmed, crouching down and giving his charge's hair an affectionate ruffle to the latter's obvious chagrin.

"And that's why Emilia is upset with you?" Krory cut in from above. "Because she thinks you took up thievery in order to keep the orphanage up and running?"

"Nah, I just took off in order to make some money." Timothy straightened, dodging a half-hearted blow from Allen as he did so. "And then, realising an honest living could only make so much, I decided to get creative."

"Creative…?" Krory sounded rather puzzled, so Timothy decided to elaborate.

"Knowing what I am capable of, do you really need to ask?"

A somewhat wry look crossed the former count's face. "I suppose not."

Silence settled briefly between them, before Allen suddenly spoke up, his voice decidedly lower now compared to earlier; a loud whisper that shredded the silence and was accompanied by a slight but noticeable tug on Timothy's sleeve. "Akuma."

Timothy glanced only briefly at the hand tugging at his sleeve, taking note of how Allen had shuffled decidedly closer. "Where?" he asked simply, crouching down anew. "How many?"

The fingers immersed in the fabric of his sleeve gradually slackened and then fell away, and Timothy took to his usual measure of cupping Allen's face, running his thumbs back and forth on Allen's cheeks in an attempt to keep him grounded while Krory hovered nervously above them.

"Five Level Twos, two Level Threes, all over, within a one kilometre radius," Allen eventually responded, his eyes somewhat less wide now even though his curse remained very much active.

"Well, damn," Timothy commented, allowing Allen a few more moments to calm himself before withdrawing and straightening. "Looks like we should prepare to go kick their collective arses then."

There was a beat of silence, and then, the inevitable comeback. "Well, that ought to make a big enough spectacle."

"Indeed," Krory readily agreed to Allen's quiet murmur, and Timcanpy too seemed to agree with said assessment, judging from the double wing beat.

"So, do we lure them or do we let them lure us? Or do we pretend we didn't notice them and hope they didn't notice us?"

All things considered, his companions in particular, Timothy figured the question hardly needed to be asked, much less answered.

**-o0o-**

About an hour and a half later, they recommenced at approximately the same location. Though they had been forced to be reasonably discreet, they had managed to eliminate all their targets.

Simply put, though they had certainly become stronger as individuals in the time since their last major confrontation with akuma, it was their mutual cooperation and teamwork that made all the difference. With the use of Allen's Innocence, they were able to trap or at the very least slow the akuma which would then become fuel or transportation for Krory and Timothy. Topping it all off with a few awfully convenient special abilities of said akuma, finishing off the rest had proven surprisingly easy.

"Well, looks like training's paid off," Timothy commented once finally back in his own body. "Told you I'd be able to possess a Level Three."

Allen rolled his eyes at this. Timcanpy seemed to perform the golem equivalent of the act.

"You don't say?" was Krory's amused response.

Timothy only pretended not to notice, directing himself elsewhere. "So, are we done here or should we be expecting more company anytime soon?"

There was a beat of silence, and it then stretched on uninterrupted.

"Allen?"

The tug on his sleeve was back. "Tim."

Timothy crouched down once more, taking Allen's face in his hands and tilting it slightly, trying to keep the frown from his own face at the look that met his. "Are there more of them coming?" he asked, running his thumbs back and forth, even though the curse was obviously inactive. "More akuma?"

Slowly, Allen reached up and pried the hands away, grabbing hold and clutching them like a lifeline as he stared at the ground, eyes wide but decidedly unfocused. "We should go."

Timothy allowed for it to happen, sending the hovering Krory a meaningful look on top of Allen's head. He received a curt nod before the man averted his eyes and began scanning their surroundings for possible hostiles. Meanwhile, the grip on Timothy's hands tightened until it became more than just slightly painful.

Allen was no longer looking at the ground; his posture had grown tense and he was looking over his shoulder. "Tim, we have to go. Right now."

"Go where?" Timothy questioned, looking in the same direction and spotting nothing out of the ordinary.

"Away from here." Allen let go of Timothy's hands abruptly and then attached himself to his sleeve, giving it a sharp tug. "Hurry."

"Akuma?"

"Not akuma." Allen shook his head before once again throwing a cautious look over his right shoulder. "Much worse."

Timothy was not quite certain as to what to make of that, though he hardly let it show on his face. Krory's eyes sought him out, questioning, and Timcanpy beat his wings twice before landing on top of Allen's head, not even bristling as Timothy reached over to pull Allen's hood up to obscure them both.

"Alright, I'll lead the way." Timothy gestured for Krory to follow his example as he pulled his own hood up. "I know a place."

"Is it safe?" Krory wondered all whilst complying with Timothy's instructions.

"Who knows?" Timothy reached up to adjust his hood, making sure it remained secure. "We'll know once we get there."

**-o0o-**

Even by foot, it did not take very long for them to reach their intended destination; to come within sight of it at the very least, seeing to the fact that they still had to decide on whether it appeared safe or not.

All things considered, now that they were here and all, Timothy opted to consult the expert. "Is it safe?" he asked, directing his question towards Allen. "No immediate threats to our continued lives and livelihoods?"

Allen ‒ no longer as tense or wary as previously ‒ spent nearly half a minute staring intently at the building in question before apparently arriving at some type of conclusion. "No."

It was a clear then.

"Good." Timothy straightened out his clothes a bit, reaching up to remove his hood now that the coast was probably as good as clear. "What more could possibly be demanded?"

"Food?" Krory casually suggested, earning a sage nod from Allen.

This time around, Timothy was the one who resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

**-o0o-**

It was while chatting with the guards at the gates to the widowed Lady Urmina's residence ‒ palace, really ‒ that they encountered a face which was familiar to most of them.

"Ah, we've been expecting you."

Greetings were exchanged, and once they had been properly admitted, Timothy figured introductions were in order. "Krory, meet Narain." He made a slight gesture to accompany the introduction. "Narain, this is Krory."

Narain had grown a few inches since last. The slight wrinkles around his eyes had grown far more pronounced; the lines were still fine, but they still bore witness to continuous hardships and countless nights of sleep deprivation. However, there was something else there as well ‒ something light ‒ that had taken the place of the deep-seated despair that now only lingered as a shadow of days long lost, not thought of but hardly forgotten.

"Hoh, Krory is it?" Narain eyed the man up and down, looking as though he was passing some sort of judgement, which he probably was, all things considered. "Where did you come across this guy? He looks like he has barely seen any sun since‒"

"Europe. Not that it should be of any interest to you," Timothy cut in and stepped in physically while he was at it, positioning himself between the pair. "By the way, how are the studies going, Narain? Making any progress?"

The words had the intended effect. Narain immediately allowed himself to be diverted, every bit a teenager as he shifted from one foot to the other, running a hand through his messy brown hair with a mild look on exasperation on his face. "Honestly, Tim? Who do you think I am?" Narain scoffed, stretching his apparently sore or stiff muscles. "I'm studying hard, as always. But obviously, I've got other duties to attend."

"Other duties?" Timothy repeated, humouring him.

"I do some work down at the clinic and spend the nights studying," Narain readily admitted, covering up a small yawn as he led them farther into the complex.

"Studying?" Krory piped up, obviously oblivious to the efforts that Timothy had gone through in order to spare him from further scrutiny and all that said scrutiny was likely to entail.

Through a quick glance at just the right moment, Timothy definitely saw a shadow cross the other's face.

"To become a doctor."

"A doctor?" Krory repeated, painfully oblivious to the figurative minefield through which he was now treading. Timothy knew he ought to have prepared for this moment beforehand; that he ought to have prevented‒

"It's what Mina would've wanted."

‒That he _really_ ought to have prevented.

"_Would've?"_ Krory began, and Timothy finally decided he had had enough, elbowing the oblivious Krory in the ribs. Apparently, so had Allen, kicking him in the shin and hissing an instruction not to ask questions.

If Narain noticed, then he at least had the decency not to comment on it. Instead, he crouched down before Allen, apparently scrutinising him and being scrutinised in return. "_Pasanda kabab_ or _pasanda paneer_?" he finally asked.

Allen tilted his head slightly to the side, contemplating the matter briefly. "Why not both?"

"How about some _tehri_?" Narain suggested, straightening. "And _gulab jamun_ for dessert?"

"All of it," Allen responded with little to no hesitation, and even Timcanpy batted his wings in a clearly anticipatory manner, all while Krory looked mildly puzzled. Timothy meanwhile experienced a sudden urge to pinch the ridge of his nose in exasperation and then proceeded to do just that.

"_Narain."_

The other lifted their gaze and shifted their body so that it faced him. "Yes?"

Timothy made a discreet hand gesture.

Narain looked mildly puzzled for a fraction of a second before understanding gradually dawned upon him. "Ah, got it."

"Got what?" asked Krory.

"To tell the cook to go easy on the spices."

**-o0o-**

"Is this truly necessary?"

Timothy shot Narain a somewhat irritated look over the shoulder before returning his full attention to the thing before him, scrutinising it for any possible faults before returning it to the obscured nook from which he had retrieved it. "Obviously."

"But you're just checking?"

"Then all the more reason." He got back to his feet, brushing some travel dust from his clothes while he was at it. "Allen's jumpy enough as it is."

"He looked stable enough to me."

"You should've seen him earlier."

"Earlier?"

"He attached himself to my sleeve."

"Sleeve?" Narain's eyes narrowed slightly. "That bad, huh?"

"That bad," Timothy affirmed, already headed towards the next location. "For your sake, I hope you didn't touch the rest."

"Obviously not, seeing that I'm not an idiot," Narain drawled right back, folding his arms across his chest. "I just had to save that one from milady's cat."

"She's still keeping that monster?"

"That she is."

"It's not here, is it?"

"It's off accompanying her on her trip, praise the gods."

"One isn't enough for you?"

They exchanged a look of mutual exasperation.

"Why settle for only one?" Narain finally quipped, baring his teeth slightly.

"Why settle for any at all?" Timothy shot back without missing a beat.

"Fair enough," Narain conceded with a mild shrug. "You of all people should know I'm just about as religious as a pebble."

"People do change their ways on occasion," Timothy retorted. "You looked significantly less dead compared to last time, so I figured you might've found God or something."

"If I had found God, then I'd be dead already of disappointment," Narain scoffed as they moved onto the last location.

"I'm sure the god you're named after feels the same about you."

Narain shrugged mildly at that, apparently conceding to the point before moving right along. "So, the barrier's still intact?"

"Seems like it," Timothy eventually decided, getting back to his feet. "Though it could use some strengthening."

"Couldn't we all?"

Even without looking, Timothy knew there to be a miniscule eye roll accompanying the statement. "Feel free to go back to the others if you like; I'm sure I can find the way back on my own."

Narain sighed. "Are you sure? I might've lied about the cat."

As if to accentuate the other's statement, some nearby bushes rustled ominously.

**-o0o-**

Narain had lied about the cat, or so was proven as they arrived back in the part of the residence where they had left the others only to be greeted by a Krory sporting some obvious scratches to his face and arms, and also by the sight of the monster purring contentedly on top of Allen's lap.

Hearing their careful approach, Allen looked up but did not pause in his ministrations, sending off a somewhat blank look in their general direction.

"Allen," Timothy finally managed after spending a good few moments attempting and failing to overcome the outright terror that grabbed hold of him at the sight of the furry, clawed and currently purring abomination. "Where's Tim?"

Allen didn't offer up a verbal answer, although he definitely kicked an eyebrow up at the slight tremble in Timothy's voice as the furry abomination temporarily stopped purring. Then, it cracked one of its positively orange eyes open, a slit pupil rapidly zeroing in on Timothy where he stood, trying to look like he wasn't about to bolt. Then, as Allen resumed the petting, the eye gradually drifted close and the purring resumed, rising in volume as Allen moved his hand to scratch the furry abomination beneath the chin.

"Allen," Timothy tried again, lowering his voice significantly. "I hope for your sake that it didn't eat Tim."

Allen looked decidedly unimpressed by the veiled threat but lifted the hand not busy scratching the cat to point towards the ceiling, wherein Timothy after a quick glance was able to affirm that Timcanpy could indeed be found, cowering on top of a perch near to the vaulted ceiling.

Resisting a sudden urge to strangle or at the very least punch Narain, Timothy settled for dragging the man slightly to the side, hissing "Why did you lie about the cat, Narain?" at the far too amiable-looking person in question.

"Payback," the other countered easily, retaining the friendly look; although upon closer inspection, it looked far more like a look of one who found a great pleasure in witnessing and causing the suffering of others.

"For what?!" Timothy hissed right back, actually grabbing him by the collar and lifting him slightly although truth to be told, such an act was futile, seeing that Narain had at least an inch on him in the height department these days. "What have I ever done to you, _bâtard?!"_

If anything, Narain's expression turned even more pleasant. "Broken jaw, remember?"

"I didn't do that!" Timothy hissed under his breath, shaking him slightly even though it hardly had the desired effect.

Realising as much, Timothy gave the other one last shake before letting go and stepping back, simply narrowing his eyes at the disturbingly pleasant expression still adorning the other's face.

"_Why don't you go and get even with the true culprit, huh?!" _That was what he would have liked to ask, among other things. As things were though, doing so would with all due likelihood lead to no good. Another thing, not exactly a question but rather a comment of sorts, was _"I liked you better when you were suicidal and grieving"_, but Timothy discarded that one for the same reason as above.

"I can't win, can I?" he offered up instead.

"Not against Narain Narayana Agni."

In a way, Timothy doubted he ever would.

In a way, he doubted it even mattered.

**-o0o-**

"Allen, how about now?"

Allen lifted his head slightly, tilting it so that he got a better look at Timothy where he stood, anticipating the answer. "How about what?"

It had already been hours since the sun had set, and with the exception of the occasional guard, they seemed to be the only ones still at large, having left Krory snoring. The exact whereabouts of Narain were unknown, though they both kind of just figured that he had gone back to studying, with or without napping in the intervals. Either way, with Allen obviously having no intention of going right to sleep, Timothy found himself accompanying him and Timcanpy around the premises.

"Is it safe for us to go outside?" Timothy asked after temporarily voiding the barrier.

There was a beat of silence, and then an answer, albeit a hesitant one. "Not sure."

There was no visible reaction from Allen's curse, meaning that there were at least no akuma within the nearest kilometre radius or so. Had it been in any other place as crowded as this one, then Timothy would most certainly have considered it odd to not have a single akuma in the vicinity of such crowded settlements. This area however was primarily populated by Hindus, who believed in reincarnation, as opposed to Christians, who believed in some type of eternal life after death but also in damnation. That was not to say that one was better than the other, obviously, because none were better than the other; they were just different. For one thing, the differing views when it came to what happens after death meant that fewer Hindus fell for the Earl's promises of resurrecting their loved ones; in comparison to Christians at any rate. Perhaps this was because they thought that they had other chances; chances for something greater in another life if not in this one. Occasionally, Timothy wondered which of them were right or if they were all wrong about what came after death. What came after death was probably nothing; no Heaven or Hell, just an end.

He restored the barrier, returning the figurine that acted as one of its anchors to its proper place in a small alcove in the surrounding brick wall. "Something's bothering you. What is it?"

Allen said nothing, scraping the sole of his sandal against the paved walkway.

"You're not sure," Timothy translated. "But it set you off."

Allen shot him a look, but did nothing else to challenge his statement. Timothy chose to interpret it as a signal to continue. "And you're sure it's not akuma."

This time around, the response was near instantaneous. "It's not."

"Then what is it?"

There was a beat of silence, and then- "Dangerous."

Timothy could feel his eyebrows furrow slightly. "How can you tell?"

Again, there was a beat of silence before an answer followed; this one quieter than the previous one and accompanied by an averting of the eyes. "Because the shadow was watching."

Timothy was not entirely sure as to how best to react to that. "Did he say anything to you ‒ the shadow guy?" he finally asked, keeping his voice quiet and steady.

Allen shook his head in denial.

"_So he pays attention to the danger, huh?" _Timothy privately thought as they walked back towards the main building.

"Did _Tsukikami_‒"

"Nope," he cut off, knowing already what the other was about to ask.

Allen shot him another look then and waved Timcanpy away from his normal perch, sending him into flight. "I didn't imagine it."

"Who said you imagined it?" Timothy shot back.

"You did," Allen snapped.

"Did I?" Timothy paused in his step, turning around to look at Allen who had fallen a few steps behind and stopped there to glare at him.

"You _insinuated_."

Insinuated? "Did not."

"But you said‒"

"No, _you_ misinterpreted," Timothy corrected.

Noting that Allen was still bristling, Timothy figured he might as well resolve this matter once and for all while he was at it. "Okay, listen up," he said, crouching down. "Immediately following an invocation, Tsukikami and my consciousnesses overlap; you know this, right?"

Allen's response consisted of a sullen nod; he had hardly expected anything more though.

"And you should also know that I tend to get a bit overwhelmed on occasion, right? So, here's a theory for you." He raised his index finger to mark his point. "Courtesy of the akuma-infested environment, I got temporarily desensitised, leaving me temporarily unable to pick up on any additional threats in the vicinity. Thus, I felt the need to ask for a second opinion."

"Still sounded like you thought I was imagining it," proved to be the murmured response.

"Whether you were imagining it or not, I trust your instincts," Timothy concluded, straightening back up. "And if it's just the bogeyman, then I'll scare him away for you."

"You're such a dork."

"Hey! I'm trying to be a good big brother here!"

"A lame big brother."

"Still cooler than you, pipsqueak."

"Says who?"

**-o0o-**

"Can't sleep?"

Krory startled slightly at the sound of the quiet voice coming from behind and whipped his head around to stare at Narain where he stood, carrying a whole pile of books. The stare was evenly returned, forcing Krory to avert his own. He felt himself colouring slightly in shame as he did so, having been caught eavesdropping on his travelling companions down in the garden below. "I suppose you are not entirely incorrect."

"Well, we're all in the same boat then." Narain adjusted his grip on the books. "We and those out in the garden."

Krory felt a tad less embarrassed then, knowing that he had not been the only one paying attention. "They seem to be having a bit of an argument," he noted quietly as Narain crouched down to deposit the pile of books onto the floor before moving past him to lean against the railing of the small balcony, giving a noncommittal response that hinted at a lack of surprise. "It looks as though Timothy might have the upper hand."

Now that sparked a definite reaction; a burst of surprised amusement. _"Really?"_

Krory could not help but wonder. "Why is it that you seem so surprised, Mr. Agni?"

"There's no need for such formality, Krory."

"Arystar," he quietly corrected.

"Krory is your surname then?"

He nodded.

"So, Ary's fine with you then?"

It was a bit unconventional and perhaps a tad on the intimate side. Surprisingly, Krory found it strangely appealing though. "I suppose it'll do," he eventually managed. "Narain, then?"

"Unless you've got something better in mind?"

He did not and said so, and Narain made no further comment on the matter, instead redirecting his attention to the events taking place below. "Still think Tim's winning this one?"

Krory stepped closer in order to get a better look.

"They're both the stubborn sort, and Tim's got more experience," Narain commented softly. "However…"

He trailed off slightly and did not seem all too keen on resuming his statement, so Krory figured he might as well change the topic ‒ but to what?

In the end, soft-spoken words emerged from his mouth without much desired input from a sense of reason. "Narain, why did you decide to become a doctor?"

That gained him a definite look, but since it was dark, he was not entirely sure as to how to interpret it.

"Because I thought I'd be good at it." Narain shifted his posture slightly. "And obviously, because I wanted to help out."

There was the sound of approaching wing beats, and Narain extended his hand into the air. Soon thereafter, Timcanpy flew to them, stalling slightly in the air before them before making use of the extended hand as a makeshift perch until Narain transferred him to the top of his head instead. "It was thanks to my sister working for Lady Urmina that I got a chance to work here as well. We grew up in the slums, so we've come a long way."

Earlier, Timothy had pointed out the slums to him, so Krory had no actual need to ask about what they were. "Your sister wanted you to become a doctor," he said instead, looking for clarification. "You mentioned that earlier."

"She did," Narain readily affirmed.

"Where is she now?"

There was no pause and no hesitation, just ‒ "Dead." ‒ a deadpan response.

Krory had a sneaking feeling this matter was what Allen and Timothy had attempted to keep him from pursuing.

"She got sick and died," Narain offered up even though Krory did not ask. "It was very sudden."

"Did you-?" Krory wondered whether or not he ought to ask the question.

"I would have, but Allen stopped me," Narain readily volunteered, his voice and expression both muted.

"He talked you out of it?"

This time around, a brief pause followed. "Something to that respect," Narain finally revealed, rubbing slightly at his chin.

Seeing the gesture, Krory recalled something about a broken jaw. "Oh."

"Naturally, I started out quite resentful." Narain shrugged mildly. "It wasn't until after they'd left that I finally realised what an idiot I'd been."

"So, Allen talked you out of bringing your sister back as an akuma," Krory summarised, making no comment about the broken jaw.

This elicited a slight chuckle from his companion. "Well, that, and he saved my life." Narain's expression turned somewhat pensive. "Made me come to terms with that which awaits us all."

Krory wondered about the proper response to that. "Death, is it?"

"Eventually, yes." Narain appeared to be contemplating something off in the distance. "One might say I've come to terms with things; with the extent of my ability. I'll keep people alive if I can, but I can't bring dead people back to life, even at the cost of my own."

"In the end, it is the Gods that have the ultimate say in who lives and who does not." Pausing, he shot Krory a sideways look. "But as long as you believe in yourself and make the most of what you've been given, that's enough as far as I'm concerned. Everyone might not share this opinion, but I believe there's far more value in being a decent human being than in being merely a devoted worshipper."

"I believe more in what I can see than in what I cannot," Krory responded.

"Is it what you can see or is it what you can perceive?"

Krory shot him a sideways look in return, retaining it.

"You're giving me a look," Narain finally noted.

"You keep asking questions," Krory noted in return, earning a mild shrug in response.

"I'm curious."

Curious? "Curious about what?"

That earned him a piercing look, piercing and stubbornly upheld. Then, finally. "About where you stand, obviously."

Granted, it was an answer, albeit a decidedly puzzling one. "Where I stand?"

"About them." Narain made a slight gesture towards the ones down in the gardens as the seemingly oblivious pair went about their business.

Mildly puzzled, Krory planted his feet more firmly onto the ground ‒ in this case, the floor. "I stand right here."

"But for how long?"

For how long? "Until they move."

"And then?"

And then? "And then I'll follow."

That earned him a small chuckle. "Not exactly leader material, I see."

Krory quirked a smirk but made no further comment.

Narain cracked a smile of his own. "Look out for them, will you? You are, after all, technically speaking the only adult in all of this."

If anything, this made Krory's smirk grow all the more pronounced. "I had forgotten."

"It's a fact that's easy to overlook," Narain agreed with a small laugh. "By them most of all."

Truly.

"Arystar Krory."

He lifted his head and stood a bit straighter.

"I won't ask you to protect them." Narain shook his head slightly before straightening anew, giving him that piercing look again. "Support them and Tim in particular, especially in case something happens."

Again, Krory found himself unsure as to how to properly react. This seemed to be a rather frequent thing as of late though. "You sound rather as though you're expecting something misfortunate to occur."

"Whether you're affiliated with the Order or not, the fact that you're accommodators of Innocence means that you won't be able to stay uninvolved in the longer term," Narain stated, deadpan. "The Order has declared a Holy War against the Earl and his forces, and the former aside, the latter won't differentiate between regular exorcists and you lot."

"In other words," Krory concluded, similarly deadpan. "You mean to say it's merely a question of time."

"It is," Narain immediately affirmed. "Tim knows this, which is why he checked the state of the barrier around this place first thing."

"Then why‒?"

Narain held his hand up to prevent the other from continuing. "Then why can't you just go into hiding, you wonder? Why can't you just erect a barrier and stay within it?" He lowered the hand slowly, keeping his gaze steady. "Because the war must end, Krory."

Out of the corner of his eye, Krory caught sight of movement down below, but there were no voices; either they were speaking all too quietly or they were not talking at all for whichever reason. If not, then what were they doing? Krory wanted to know, but he found that his attention drawn elsewhere; drawn and captivated as his companion continued speaking.

"I may not be an exorcist, or even a member of the Order." Narain folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head ever so slightly. "But, knowing as much as I do, I can hardly sit here and do nothing now, can I?"

Nodding shortly in the general direction of those down below, Narain redirected Krory's attention there as well. "As a doctor, it's my job to save human lives; not souls. Obviously though, if I manage to save more, then there'll be fewer tragedies for the Earl to exploit."

"Tragedies…"

Narain lifted his head slightly. "Tim's told you, hasn't he? About how akuma are born?"

Krory nodded.

"Tim's perceptive, but if it wasn't for Allen, then I would have fallen into that man's trap… because sympathy's not always enough."

Again, Krory offered up a slight nod.

Arms still folded across his chest, Narain shoot another look down into the garden. His eyes zeroed in on Timothy and Allen where they still remained, having a now quiet conversation from the looks and sounds of it, and then he turned his eyes skywards. "Some things, you simply have to experience in order to properly understand."

The moon was waning now, but that hardly mattered. It would become full again soon, because after the moon gradually waned only to briefly disappear, it gradually waxed into its complete form only to then wane once more. It waxed and waned; lived and died and was reborn anew. As ever. As always.

He glanced at Allen and Timothy, and caught Allen's gaze, even from a bit of a distance. When Timothy turned slightly however, he gave the pair a slight wave before retreating back indoors, picking up his pile of books on the way. Surprisingly enough, Krory followed soon thereafter.

"Is there something amusing?" Krory asked, picking up on his slight chuckle.

"Nothing much," Narain commented as Timcanpy once again took flight. "Nothing much."

**-o0o-**

Meanwhile, while the pair up on the balcony had become caught up in their own conversation, the ones down below discussed those discussing them.

"Say‒" Timothy turned his head only a fraction to observe the pair out of the corner of his eye. "What do you think they're talking about?"

Having kept watch of them far longer than Timothy had, Allen answered without hesitation. "Grownup things."

"Grownup things?" Timothy chanced another glance, hoping he was not making it all too obvious. "Looked more like they were having a bit of an argument to me."

"Tim." Allen shot him an exasperated look. "You're seriously dense."

Taking offense to such a statement was obviously an alternative. Ultimately however, curiosity won out. "How can you tell?" he asked instead, looking at Allen now. "That they're not having an argument, I mean?"

Allen didn't answer immediately, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Because they don't feel angry… Serious yes, but not angry."

"You think they're talking about us?"

Allen nodded.

"What do you think they're saying?"

Allen shrugged mildly. "Timcanpy's off recording it, so‒"

Timothy was not entirely sure as to what to say to that. "I can't believe I didn't think of it myself."

"You've been busy maintaining the barrier," Allen deadpanned. "It really can't be helped."

"How considerate of you."

Again, Allen shrugged. "As I said, it can't be helped."

Hoh? "You know," Timothy finally said, crouching down before him once more. "You've been unusually nasty these days. Are you angry at me in particular or at the world in general?"

Allen made no comment, having no visible reaction besides a slight narrowing of the eyes. "I'm not angry," he finally relayed, averting his eyes. "At you or at anyone else."

Timothy opted to call BS on that one, and in a borderline sing-along voice at that. "Liiiiiar, liiiiar, pants on fi‒"

"I'm not angry!" Allen snapped, proving Timothy's point.

"You are."

"Not angry," Allen insisted.

"You are," Timothy repeated.

"No."

"Yes."

"No," Allen reaffirmed, and with quite a bit of force to it as well. "Stop being so goddamned childish, you goddamned twat!"

Hoh, twat, was it? "I'm talking to a child, so why shouldn't I be‒"

"_No."_ The glare was pronounced and unmistakable. "Not a child."

Before Timothy had even opened his mouth to contest the statement, he had already been cut off. "Don't. You. Dare," Allen snapped, on the verge of snarling.

Timothy figured he had pushed this one far enough. "Not a child," he readily yielded, holding his hands up in surrender. "Got it."

That earned him a scoff, and as he straightened back up, Allen was already looking towards the palace with a very intent look on his face.

"Say, Allen‒" Timothy finally said, all whilst Allen appeared seemingly content with ignoring his presence altogether. "Hey, short stuff."

Allen finally turned his head in his direction, even if it was only to glare at him.

"So, which pisses you off more ‒ me or the state of world?"

The look turned considering. "You both piss me off," Allen eventually decided, deadpan.

"That's not really an answer," Timothy noted, and not without some measure of humour.

"Who gives a damn," Allen deadpanned, averting his eyes.

"Say, Allen…"

Allen wordlessly held his hand up for Timcanpy, shifting his gaze toward Timothy once Timcanpy had reclaimed his usual perch.

"How about staying?"

**-o0o-**

Truth to be told, it had been on his ‒ Timothy's ‒ mind for a while now. Taking recent revelations and developments into consideration, perhaps it was worth considering. After all, Allen appeared to get along swimmingly with Narain ‒ which was surprising ‒ and with the abomination ‒ which was not that surprising. Now that they had in effect caused a bit of havoc and effectively called attention to themselves, it only made sense for them to stay right where they were, lying low. It was after all that, or it was staying on the move.

In the end, it was a matter of fact that they were three foreigners and mismatched ones at that, meaning that even if they stayed steadily on the move, they would inevitably end up calling unwanted attention to themselves.

On the other hand, one could probably argue that it still made sense to remain on the move, seeing that they had to have called some fraction of the Earl's attention to the general area; taking down Level Threes was hardly the pastime of regular exorcists after all, even when working in teams. In other words, the Earl ought to be very much aware of the fact that there was a faction of exorcists in the area that had proven themselves capable of dealing with high-level akuma. In effect, this meant that there would be ears piqued and eyes peeled, eyes and ears that would ‒ with all due likelihood ‒ sooner or later pick up on the fact that there was a fairly sized palace surrounded by a barrier that could certainly be broken if enough mind and effort was put into it.

As such, staying put was not without its risks, and staying put would also mean risks for Narain and the rest of the widow's household. Taking that into consideration, it definitely made more sense to remain mobile, to head further eastward and to hopefully disappear out in Calcutta, a place that harboured far more foreigners and that would allow them quick access to the shipping routes in case they needed to travel even further. Besides, Timothy knew people in connection to the Viceroy of India, people that could probably be persuaded to help them out if it came to that; to get them aboard a ship if nothing else.

In the end, both alternatives held their definite and their potential merits and drawbacks. In Timothy's mind, it was all the same ‒ or perhaps not, considering the fact that staying in Agra did have the definite advantage of them knowing they had a place and resources at hand, along with people they knew they could probably trust.

Lady Urmina had not yet returned to the residence, but in the end, she ‒ along with all other women that had chosen to become sponsors ‒ had proven inexplicably loyal to Cross and Cross' cause, into which Timothy counted himself and his companions, albeit with a great deal of reluctance.

It was probably the same with Lady Urmina's people, except that they were loyal to the mistress herself rather than to the mistress' charity case. The same kind of loyalty could hardly be expected from the people of anyone that Timothy had connections with off in Calcutta.

In the end, although he was probably best suited for making the decision himself, Timothy still opted to delegate it elsewhere. After all, whichever decision was made, he would cope as long as Allen was okay with it. If Krory had a problem with it, then Timothy figured that they could ask him to stay behind, given that he and Narain had seemingly hit it off to some degree. Obviously, that was not to say that Timothy had any problems with the man. Rather, it became a question of priorities and when it came to priorities, Timothy had had his sorted out since a long time ago.

"Can't stay," Allen eventually concluded, reaching up to poke at Timcanpy riding on top of his head. "Have to keep on walking."

And with those words, a fateful decision was made.

**-o0o-**


	4. Paths Crossed

_**Last edited April 18**__**th**__** 2016.**_

**-o0o-**

**Paths Crossed**

**-o0o-**

They were at the station, wistfully waiting for the next train to arrive.

It was Allen who finally broke the silence, uttering what they were all thinking. "He's not coming to say goodbye, is he?"

"He's probably got more than enough stuff to deal with," Timothy commented with a mild shrug, inwardly pondering the decided accuracy of the statement.

"But I'm still happy that we came here," Allen stated, picking at his hood a bit self-consciously; much like Krory, he seemed a tad unnerved by the crowd surrounding them.

Timothy tilted his head slightly, scanning the crowd before returning his immediate attention to the conversation at hand. "Yeah, so am I."

"It proved quite educational, I'd say," Krory yielded softly, moments thereafter.

Timothy hummed, finding that he could very much imagine that. "He looked a lot better than I thought he would," he finally commented. "Knowing him, he'll be a doctor the next time we see him."

Some could have argued that it was more of a question of _if_ than of _when_. In the end though, if Narain had managed to survive this long, then becoming a doctor shouldn't take very long. In the end, it was more of a question whether _they_ were still around to see it.

Either way, be it in this life or in whatever came thereafter, the promise of an eventual reunion seemed to pick up the spirits of his companions, although Timothy figured that they probably understood the subtext just as well as he did.

"Get ready."

Whether they liked it or not, they could only ever move forward.

**-o0o-**

"You're not going to see them off?"

Narain offered up a dismissive wave in response to the guard's playful inquiry as he left for the clinic in the morning.

The day proved decidedly uneventful. When he returned at the end of the day, predictably, the only ones there to greet him were the guards at the gates and the furry abomination on the way to his private quarters.

The feline just sat there, watching him with its ever disapproving yellow eyes.

Narain respectfully stepped around it, noting with some pleasure that it only turned its head to continue watching him. Even now, in the time that had passed, they got along rather poorly. One might say that they tolerated one another days, unlike back when the stray had been brought in and presented as a makeshift gift from Cross to his mistress; as a reminder of himself, perhaps?

Nevertheless, Narain had only ever seen the cat take to three people. He himself was not included in the bunch, but since he was usually tasked with feeding the thing, it usually granted him some degree of leniency. Usually.

Narain deposited his satchel inside his room and then stepped past the seated feline once more, taking a few steps before pausing, turning partially as he addressed it. "Coming?"

It got up, although not to follow. Instead, it strutted past him, making sure that Narain was the one following instead. Really, it was nice to know that certain things remained the same.

He fed the cat and then himself, and then retired for the night.

In the morning, a similar process was repeated before he once again headed off to the clinic.

The others had probably made it to Allahabad and perhaps even to Benares. With all due likelihood, it would take at least another day and a half before they reached Calcutta.

Had his day continued as routinely as it had started, then Narain would not have thought anymore of it. However, as was gradually made more evident as the day went on, the day was anything but regular.

As he entered the clinic, Narain noticed his teacher standing a bit off to the side, rapidly flipping through the pages of his journal, mumbling something to himself. "Master?"

Master Manu shot him a look that spoke of a stressful previous night, making an irritated gesture towards the area in the back. "You're late."

Narain wasn't that late, but apparently, he ought to have risen earlier.

Master Manu slammed his journal back shut and left his desk, hand lightly grasping the back of Narain's neck to guide him. Recognising that his teacher was in a rather foul mood for one reason or the other, Narain made little comment or resistance as Master Manu brought him into the back area that occasionally functioned as an operating room.

For a brief moment, Narain thought the room was empty. Then, he caught sight of a dark-clad figure in the corner. In the second that followed, he had identified the Black Order uniform, freezing up for about a second or so before Master Manu resolutely pushed him into the room and pulled the drapery behind them shut, separating the front of the clinic from the back.

"Amputation," Master Manu instructed, still speaking Hindi. "Prepare him."

The exorcist looked up then, and from the slight widening of the eyes, the man had only just noticed their presence.

"Narain," Master Manu barked, already prepping his instruments. "Explain."

The prompt instruction snapped him out of his thoughts, and Narain set right to work. _"Sir?"_

"_Yes?"_ the exorcist immediately responded, weary eyes focused on him now as he gestured towards the makeshift operating table.

"_Master Manu tells me that you wish to be amputated?"_

The man nodded and immediately rose from the chair, unbuttoning his coat with no slight amount of effort. He then shrugged it off, leaving it in the chair he had just vacated. _"My right arm; it needs to be taken off before the infection spreads."_

Narain nodded, even though it was perfectly obvious to him that said infection was actually a parasitic Innocence, albeit thickly bundled up in bandages.

"Administer morphine," Master Manu instructed.

Opting not to think about it, Narain readily obeyed.

The procedure itself proved gruesome although not lengthy, and once it was over with, Master Manu once again pulled him aside, bringing him into the front of the clinic this time around. Ultimately, the arrival of more regular patients ended up postponing the talk Narain knew was coming.

After giving some advice to an old woman with continuous back pain, Narain felt Master Manu's hand on his shoulder.

"He came here six hours ago and refused to leave," Master Manu told him, squeezing his shoulder slightly. "With high fever, multiple but minor abrasions and an inability to speak or understand Hindi, Urdu or anything remotely civilised."

Knowing his master as well he did, Narain knew that English was not considered as such, seeing to the fact that Master Manu held the language and those native to it in very low regards, even contempt.

"He promised to pay me with the silver buttons of his coat," his master continued, shooting a disdainful look towards the back. "You assisted, so you may help yourself to one."

Narain hardly needed it. However, it would have been very rude to refuse. Besides, Narain recalled that there was something special about said buttons, so he might as well accept the offer. "Yes, Master Manu."

Narain wondered whether or not he ought to tell the other about their patient's Black Order affiliations, but ultimately opted against it. Judging from the other's behaviour, Master Manu obviously thought that the man was bad news. Inwardly, Narain could do little else than agree.

The exorcist left later that same day, relieved of his right arm and obviously relieved by the fact in addition to being high on morphine. Escorting the man to the train station had not been part of Narain's plan. However, in the great whole, perhaps it had been a part of someone else's.

"_You have been very helpful,"_ the exorcist told him as they reached the train station. _"If the infection had continued spreading, then I would not have lived."_

"_There is little shame in wanting to live,"_ Narain responded, holding out a travelling pack for the other to take.

"_I have a daughter,"_ the man told him, an expression of nostalgia seeping into his weary features. _"I thought of her and I realised I couldn't die before I'd seen her one more time."_

"_At any cost necessary?"_

"_At any cost necessary,"_ the man affirmed, although there was now a wary glimpse in his eyes. _"Why do you ask?"_

Why indeed?

"_There is word in the street of two dead foreigners over at the Taj Mahal,"_ Narain casually informed, taking note of how the other grew tense at their mention. _"The description of their clothes sounded rather like yours, so…"_

Narain deliberately left the last part unsaid, because judging by the look in the other's eyes, implying it was more than enough. There were after all only two likely scenarios at hand ‒ possibly three if one stretched it.

It was essentially one way or the other, and it was all the same as far as Narain himself was concerned. As such, there was no real need for him to ask whether or not the other had run off and left his comrades to perish or if the man had struck a deal with the enemy in order not to end up like his comrades. None of this concerned Narain after all. However, considering the timing, the place and the knowledge at hand, he knew there was one question that needed to be asked, to ease or confirm his own fears if nothing else.

"_The enemy; what did they want?"_

There was another beat of silence, and a look of pained determination crossed the other's face. _"They wanted our blood and our lives, but also information,"_ the exorcist eventually revealed. _"There was a man and he called himself a Noah; he killed my comrades and offered to spare me in exchange for information…"_

"_What information?"_

The exorcist hesitated.

Apparently, there was a need to push a bit harder after all.

Narain grabbed the other by the front of their shirt and tugged. Judging by the look on the other's face, such a move had not been anticipated, given Narain's previously unassuming demeanour. On top of the pain and surprise, Narain saw evident fear in their eyes. Fear was good, because his suspicions about the man had just been confirmed.

"_Listen here, __**Suman Dark**__,"_ he snapped, taking some pleasure in the amplifying dread. _"I couldn't care less about whether or not you sold out your comrades, ran off to save your own skin or even both. I care about only one thing: __**What. Did. The enemy. Want?**__ You tell me, and you'll tell the truth, and I'll let you go, and you'll die somewhere else."_

"_Information about the whereabouts of the generals."_

To his credit, Suman Dark responded quickly; a tad too quickly, perhaps?

Narain narrowed his eyes, and the act apparently got the message across, seeing that Suman Dark soon thereafter remedied his statement. _"The Noah; he had a card. It spoke. He called it the Prisoner of the List Cage."_

Narain's grip did not relent, even though he could tell that they were becoming a bit of a spectacle at this point. _"A list?"_

"_A list of names,"_ Suman Dark quietly responded. _"He kept asking about someone named Allen Walker."_

**-o0o-**

The first time Narain had laid eyes on Mrs. Urmina's foreign guests, he had resolved to keep them at an arm's length.

As for his motives for doing so, the major one had less to do with actual logic and more to do with instincts. In short, they had looked like trouble, some more than others.

Narain had never voiced this opinion openly to anyone. Mina had obviously noticed though and had berated him for this, but she might as well have been talking to a wall. Ultimately, it had not been her words that had forced him to gradually change his mind about the strangers; not about all of them, but about some.

Cross Marian was still a man of whom Narain knew to be wary. Then again, such wariness was hardly needed in his case, seeing that whether he lived or died couldn't have mattered less to the man. What Lady Urmina saw in the man was still a mystery to him, because as far as Narain himself was concerned, the man had few ‒ if any ‒ redeemable qualities. The man's occasionally whimsical nature aside, there was a definite hard edge; a sharp mind largely devoid of notions such as concern for his fellow human beings.

If anything, meeting Timothy and Allen had cemented Narain's views about Cross as a man who lived by the principle that the ends justified the means. Timothy Hearst in particular had the makings of a potentially useful yet at the same time easily disposable tool. Even from a distance, Narain could tell as much and he could also tell that Timothy himself knew as much. Having always considered himself a fairly good judge of character and having honed his skills of observation since, Narain knew the makings of a self-sacrificing idiot when he saw one.

Allen Walker harboured similar ‒ perhaps even greater ‒ potential as far as that was concerned. However, as ought to have been perfectly obvious to anyone with a functioning pair of eyes, neither Cross nor Timothy would allow Allen to perish, although their methods in doing so differed greatly.

They had hardly been Narain's focus though; hardly his concern either, seeing that Mina had taken ill at the time, becoming bound to a bed from which she would never again rise. It had all gone down quickly, leaving him little time to come to terms with the possibility of her death before it was already upon him.

Her death; he had been unable to accept it, foolishly enough. Given the chance, Narain would have undone it. Given the chance, he would have undone it, regardless of the cost to himself and to others. It was only in hindsight that the true cost had become apparent to him.

Because Narain knew now and he knew it well, and the knowledge had definitely played its part in his decision to start working at the clinic whenever his services were not required by Lady Urmina. He knew now and knew it well, and that played a great part in him leaving for the clinic at the height of preparation for the departure of their guests. Narain had figured the lot would be able to handle themselves even in his absence. Besides, he had already seen what he needed to see and had already said what needed to be said; resolved what needed to be resolved, for now.

Despite the way in which they had parted the last time around, there were no hard feelings on either side. Despite the broken jaw, Narain had forgiven quickly, although by then, Allen and Timothy had already made themselves scarce, having headed westward after parting with Cross.

Even in the months that had passed, Narain remembered very vividly how he had thought he had seen the last of them; that they would head for Europe but be lost along the way.

Cross Marian had not seemed overly worried though; the man had seemed quite indifferent to it all and perhaps a bit pleased as well. Whether this was due to getting his way as usual or due to getting to spend his days loitering without Timothy's disapproving presence was anyone's guess.

Personally, Narain had figured he personally couldn't care less. No, actually he _could_ have cared a lot less; it was probably a great deal more sensible to do so, considering the fact that there were so many other things worthier of his attention.

Yet there he was, standing before a fallen exorcist, forcing himself to calm down; to remain detached, physically as well as emotionally. Ironic, wasn't?

**-o0o-**

Upon his arrival back to the clinic, Master Manu waved him into the back, dealing with another patient before joining him there, allowing him some time to calm his breathing and furiously beating heart. Having made his way back from the station in quite a hurry, Narain gratefully made use of it all whilst thinking about how to present this latest development to his makeshift mentor.

Then again, perhaps there was really no such need, seeing that his satchel of medical supplies was on the table and had been stacked to last for a few months at the very least.

"If you're going, go, before I change my mind."

"Are you sure?"

There was a brief pause; a beat of silence. Then, as one, they both snorted, but for slightly differing reasons. "Honestly, you're troublesome."

And with those words uttered out of mutual amusement intermingling with exasperated contempt, they parted. Narain took in the general contents of his satchel before hauling it up onto his shoulder. _"So you've decided to give me a hand after all, Master Manu,"_ he finally commented, in English at first before switching back to Urdu. "Literally."

And it was a bundled up and amputated limb containing Innocence at that.

Torn between a sense of uneasiness and a sense of wry amusement, Narain pondered his options. Naturally, he too found himself somewhat wary about the amputated limb, although for reasons that differed from those of his mentor, who despite his medical expertise was also fairly superstitious. Narain himself on the other hand regarded the Innocence for what it was; considering what he had heard from Timothy, _potentially dangerous_ was a severe understatement. Still‒

There was little more time to waste.

**-o0o-**

There was a hand on Timothy's sleeve, tugging lightly. "Akuma."

Stricken by a strange sense of déjà vu, Timothy exchanged a look with Krory above Allen's head, kicking up an eyebrow. Krory nodded once, reaching for their stuff now that the train was finally pulling into their final destination. Timothy let him get on with that, keeping a keen eye out for anything suspicious in their surroundings on top of monitoring Allen's condition, a condition which had by no means improved from an extended time period in the hot and poorly ventilated train carriage, and wearing a hood at that.

Whether it was a question of mere heatstroke or a fever due to stress or other causes was difficult to determine. To Timothy however, it was ultimately only a question of whether he would be forced to carry the other or not; a scenario by no means unthinkable to him, despite Allen's general aversion to the thought.

"Are they close?"

"Three o'clock, two to three hundred metres."

"Are they strong?"

"Level Two."

Low ‒ comparatively speaking, of course. Then again, they were at a train station of a moderately crowded city, so it wouldn't be strange to find a few akuma scattered about in the area, whether it was because they were hunting themselves or because they had been ordered to keep careful watch over people who came and went.

Normally, exorcists and other Order personnel lacked the means to detect them, meaning it would be painfully easy for the Earl to just station his people ‒ akuma or not ‒ to keep track of their rather noticeable uniforms.

Speaking of which, Timothy made a mental note to himself to remind himself more often about the possibility of human collaborators; one might forget to exercise proper caution after all, having an akuma-spotter in the group.

Naturally, being the paranoid bastard that he was, Cross had managed to influence Timothy into thinking in similar patterns. Besides, paranoia aside, they had all been bestowed with sensory capabilities that went beyond those of normal folks. Being what they were, it was only natural for them to become excessively tuned into detecting akuma as opposed to detecting threats in general.

Even so, as had been proven back in Agra, Allen's sensory capabilities now seemed to pick up on things other than akuma. Either way‒ "We lie low, alright?"

Krory dipped his head once in acknowledgement.

Allen offered up a similarly muted affirmation.

They made it safely out into the street and beyond without further incident, heading for the harbour area. Naturally, Timothy ‒ the only human in the group who possessed a functioning sense of direction ‒ led the group while at the same time pondering what ought to be their next move. Obviously, getting an idea about the layout and of any ships currently in the harbour would prove beneficial for whenever they needed to banter with either some old sea captain or with some sponsor or bureaucrat in order to be let onboard.

Bantering was obviously Timothy's territory, considering the fact that Allen looked even younger than his years and that Krory was still a bit naïve and unused to the ways in which the real world worked. Besides, manipulating people on a physical as well as on an emotional level had always been Cross' forte. Having been forced to endure the immediate company of the man far too long for his own mental health, Timothy had naturally picked up on a trick or two ‒ or more, depending on the situation. Besides, if all else failed, then Timothy could hijack the body of someone capable of making things work, which wasn't an alternative to most.

For once, it would appear as though Timothy would not only make himself useful but also indispensible.

Fingers suddenly reattached themselves to his sleeve, tugging sharply. "Tim."

"What is it now?"

Allen pointed and Timothy looked, taking in the food stand he had wilfully been ignoring for the last couple of metres. Next to him, he heard Krory's stomach rumbling and found himself grimacing as his own responded in agreement. "Fiiiiiine, but keep it within limits. We don't want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves."

"If we take it to go, then couldn't we get more?" Allen innocently suggested, and despite his convictions, Timothy felt himself on the verge of caving in.

"Eat you should or die you would," Krory chimed in, nodding solemnly.

Timothy rolled his eyes, and inwardly, he could've sworn he heard Tsukikami snickering. "Okay, fine, you've convinced me. Shall we?"

**-o0o-**

Hours later found them at an inn, with Timothy making preparations to head out and speak with some of the people that he knew in connection to the local administration. While he was at it, he figured he might as well look a bit further into the matter with finding a ship, since it was easier to do so without additional tagalongs. Also, leaving the others at the inn had the additional advantage of keeping Allen confined to bed rest and looked after by Krory and Timcanpy in case something happened.

Naturally, Allen hadn't quite agreed with Timothy's assessment of things, but with the other could sulk all he wanted provided he stayed hydrated and in bed. Besides, his occasionally less than stern demeanour aside, Krory did have an ability to guilt trip even someone as stubborn as Allen if he really put his mind into it; a outright achievement in Timothy's eyes.

Then again, speaking of outright achievements‒

Taking a deep breath, Timothy steadied himself where he now stood a short distance away from the grounds of the Belvedere Estate, pondering what would be the most favourable approach. Even if the Governor or any other high-ranked folks were in, there were after all no guarantees that they'd agree to speak with some unknown brat, whether he was connected to Cross or not. Rather, Timothy found that he would very much prefer them knowing as little as humanly possible about his connections to the unsavoury general, due to the simple reason that

1) Cross might owe some of them or some of their acquaintances money,

2) Cross might have seduced the wives/sisters/daughters of some,

And lastly,

3) The Earl likely had more than a few spies in their immediate vicinity.

Truth to be told, Timothy wasn't absolutely certain about which prospect frightened him the most.

Either way, it left him little choice but to tread carefully. With that in mind, he kept his distance and watched the residence, making careful note of who came and went while also looking for someone who could possibly suit his needs. It was far easier said than done, seeing that Timothy wanted to get things done without making it overly dangerous or attention-grabbing if he could avoid it.

Maybe Timothy should've brought Krory along after all; the man was a former noble and a curiosity at that. Victorians were morbidly interested in strange things after all; the unusual and exotic. A story of a vampire count ‒ well, baron to be specific ‒ would no doubt have turned a few heads, especially this far away from Europe itself. Then again, Timothy wasn't into the business of turning his fellow companions into freak shows. By normal people's standards, he was a freak himself after all, so it would have been extremely hypocritical of him to attempt to make profit off of other people's irregularities.

To be completely honest, it came across as rather Cross-like, and if there was someone Timothy actively aspired not to emulate, it was Cross. Granted, he still found himself in reluctant awe of the man's ability to manipulate his surroundings, be it through the use of magic or through the use of psychology or even physical force. However, there was a fine line between admiring someone for their abilities and aspiring to be like them in every aspect. As such, Timothy had occasionally been forced to swallow his pride and his many complaints about the man's many faults in order to learn from him ‒ to control his Innocence; to manipulate people; to do magic.

It had hardly been a walk in the park to live as Cross' apprentice and unpaid servant. However, considering the alternative, it was definitely preferable. Still‒

"Tim."

Timothy snapped his head around, eyes widening briefly before narrowing as he caught sight of his comrades a short distance away on the banks of the Adi Ganga, travelling cloaks pulled tight around them and hoods obscuring their faces.

Abandoning his earlier endeavour, Timothy quickly stalked towards them, scanning their general surroundings for threats. Finding none, he instead focused on them, exchanging a quick look with Krory who made a slight grimace and then averted his gaze. "Allen?"

"Tim." Allen looked up to meet his gaze, revealing at once that his curse wasn't active but that there was definitely something else going on.

Timothy resolutely reined in the instinctual urge to lash out and berate the pair for disobeying orders. To bear such facial expressions, they obviously had to have good reasons, reasons of which Timothy needed to be made aware and quickly at that. "Where's it coming from?"

Allen pointed in the direction of the district they had no doubt come from, which made sense, considering the fact that they were here now. It was only sensible after all ‒ to run from the danger and to seek out Timothy, who was supposed to know what to do. But did he?

"Okay," he finally decided, because there was little time to be wasted. "Here's the plan: We head up where the Adi Ganga ties into the Hooghly River, which is about two kilometres northwest of here. There, unless we've got a better plan, we steal a fishing boat, and preferably one with a roof. Alright?"

Still tense, the others nodded their consent, still looking as though they were going to jump at the slightest scare. Well, the latter applied for Krory at the very least, and it was not highly productive seeing to the fact that they were trying to keep a relatively low profile even so.

With a sigh, Timothy took a shawl from his pack and wrapped it around his head. It was a flimsy attempt at best, although perhaps from a distance, they would be seen as something other than what they were. Then again, not knowing quite what they were up against, it was more likely than not a futile attempt.

The thought of using magic for the sake of camouflage had definitely crossed his mind more than once. As things were though, the use of magic could also be detected and traced if one knew what to look for, and without knowing who or what was out there, it seemed like a huge risk.

In hindsight, it would become apparent that it wouldn't have made even a shred of a difference.

**-o0o-**

The man was dressed like a Victorian gentleman in a top hat and suit, taller than average and bearing the type of looks that was probably popular with women and perhaps even a few men as well, and he approached them leisurely as though he had all the time in the world.

Had Timothy passed them on the street and spared them only a brief glance, then he would probably have thought of them as a noble of some sort; a gentleman. Then again, had they walked past each other on the street and had Timothy actually been paying proper attention to his surroundings, then he would most definitely have paused at their greyish hue and at their strange amber-coloured eyes.

Even without the unusual colouring of the man's skin or the fanciful clothes, Timothy would probably have noticed them anyway ‒ for their leaking killing intent, if nothing else. While not as sensitive to raw emotion as Krory or Allen, Timothy definitely felt it; on a purely primeval level, if nothing else.

Frankly, their mere presence made his skin crawl.

"Now tell me‒" What looked like an ordinary playing card was produced from one of the man's pockets, held up and inspected with a smirk. "Which of you would happen to be Allen Walker?"

Timothy gritted his teeth, recovering quickly from the surprise brought about when the card spoke, alternating between a chorus of delete-delete-delete and Allen's name; to delete; to kill.

Within seconds, Timothy had used a spell to tear the card from their grip, flinging it into the river. The act elicited looks of surprise from friends and foe alike. Within moments though, the smirk was back and wider than previously on the stranger's face. "You've got no idea how long I've wanted to do that. Looks like you people might be of some use to me, unlike those Black Order dogs."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Timothy snorted, ripping the shawl off of his head and reaching up to adjust his headband. It was obvious that they wouldn't be able to avoid a direct confrontation, so they might as well roll with it.

"Hoh? Are you sure?" The man continued eyeing them with keen interest whilst retaining some distance. "I might not be as much of a sadist as my brother, but I don't pull my punches‒"

"There are more of you?" Timothy asked, stepping out slightly in front of the others, deliberately placing himself at the centre of attention and just as deliberately asking questions, in part for the sake of gathering info and in part for the sake of stalling. After all, faced with an unknown enemy who had sought them out with a sinister purpose in mind, what else could be done except gather information while awaiting the right moment to strike and run.

The man blinked. "You people honestly didn't get the memo? Strange, seeing that we went through the trouble of introducing ourselves and everything‒"

"Well, we're not exactly _in_ the Order, are we?" Timothy snapped, and behind him, there were audible wing beats indicating that Timcanpy had taken flight.

"But you are cohorts of Cross Marian though, judging by the golem?"

"Cohorts? Of that man?" Timothy snorted, shifting his stance.

"You're angry. How curious."

Behind him, Timothy felt the others shift. Soon thereafter, there was the evident flare of Allen activating his Innocence.

"_Count."_ Arriving at the inevitable conclusion, Timothy shifted his head a fraction, addressing Krory. "I'm about to try something _veeery_ stupid, so get ready for the fallout."

Krory, looking quite fierce now with his Innocence invoked, scoffed and cracked his knuckles. "Humph. No other choice then."

Neither wasted any more time, Krory snatching a much startled Allen up by the waist while Timothy himself sped off.

"You can't honestly mean to succeed in a frontal assaul‒" was all that their amber-eyed enemy managed before Timothy rammed him with a very deliberate head butt.

Timothy's head exploded in agony, but moments thereafter, he experienced pain of a different sort, leaving his own body behind to inhabit another, just in time to catch his own before it fell to the ground.

A terse moment of silence followed, and then‒ "Did it work? Tim, did it work?"

He gritted his teeth ‒ well, not _his_ teeth technically speaking ‒ as his head threatened to burst and a stomach-lurching sensation ran though him; a physical reaction to his presence? Was that even‒

"Not for long," he finally managed, hoisting up his own body and throwing it at Krory who caught it with relative ease, even with a mostly uncooperative Allen under one arm. "Get a head start. _Now._"

"But‒"

"_Now!"_

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Momentarily, his systems shorted out completely. Seconds later, Timothy awoke with a gasp back in his own body slung over Krory's shoulder. It took more than a few seconds before he regained rudimentary use of his limbs, managing to prop himself up enough to get a decent gauge on the situation at hand.

They were on the other side of the river now and their enemy remained on the opposite side of the riverbank, one hand pressed against their head and the other extended towards then.

A swarm of black butterflies appeared, exiting the other's body and saturating the air in the vicinity. Timothy blearily wondered what the locals would make of it; such a display could hardly pass by unnoticed after all.

"Not so fast, exorcists."

Damn it all.

**-o0o-**


	5. Ways Parted

_**Last edited April 18**__**th**__** 2016\. **_

**-o0o-**

**Ways Parted**

**-o0o-**

That day ‒ in the late afternoon, to be exact ‒ the skies darkened, saturated by a swarm of black butterfly golems. It was a day that the locals would recall with no slight amount of horror for quite some time as strange creatures had appeared and fought one another. And when the swarm had cleared and the monsters disappeared one after the other, some swore that they had seen the retreating figures of three men and a small golden bird. As things were, one or two would even whisper amongst themselves that the gods themselves had made some sort of appearance.

Over the course of the days that followed, an ever increasing number of people would come to hear and to doubt the validity of the statement, just like there would be plenty who did believe it. And believer and nonbeliever alike, they would each have had trouble recognising one of said supposedly descended gods, should they lay eyes upon him now.

Instead of a supposed god or their messenger there was now only an unassuming young man in his late teens, passing through the market with a determined stride, pausing only occasionally to buy one thing or the other, chugging them down into the large sack that he carried on his back.

All in all, the sight was common enough, and to anyone zeroing in on him in particular, they'd see only a determined young man who was obviously out on some errand. It was, after all, common enough.

By the time he left the marketplace, most would already have forgotten; first his face and then his errand, had he not been their customer. However, in the place to which he then returned, he was anything but a stranger.

"They've been acting really weird. What did you tell them?"

The one asking was Arystar Krory, a fallen noble in a self-imposed exile making an abnormally swift recovery from serious wounds recently inflicted.

The one being asked was Narain Narayana Agni, a former medical student and servant turned Innocence Accommodator.

"They think we're gods." Or something to the like; lesser gods.

"Gods?" Krory repeated, wrinkling his nose slightly at that.

"Gods," Narain affirmed, heading for the bedding laid out on the floor to accommodate a pale and mostly quiet third, taking a seat. "No change?"

Krory joined him on the floor, seating himself on the opposite side. "He mumbled something a while ago."

"Hoh?" Narain noted, pausing a moment to scratch his wrists. "Odds are that he'll be awake and nagging us by the end of the day then."

Krory shot him a definite look at that. Narain certainly noticed it, but did nothing to retract or otherwise modify his statement; it was likely accurate after all, knowing Timothy Hearst's tenacity as he did. Unlike Krory, Narain had after all been there on occasion to patch Timothy up after Cross Marian's training and trials had gone a bit more overboard than usual.

As previously mentioned, Narain knew the makings of a self-sacrificing idiot when he saw one. Rather, he found himself pleasantly surprised by the fact that he hadn't arrived only to apply first-aid to a cooling corpse. Naturally, he hadn't mentioned this to Krory, not even voicing it to himself back when the other had finally crashed after lasting through quite an ordeal, going by the somewhat fragmented recordings Timcanpy had of the events.

Speaking of which‒

Narain tilted his head slightly, looking at the winged golem perched on the windowsill, its wings hanging listlessly by its sides and its tail in a similar condition. He contemplated calling for it or speaking to it much like Timothy and especially Allen did. Then again, Narain had already spoken to it for a bit, mostly because there had been no one else to talk to ‒ no one responsive, at any rate.

Frankly, it had made him feel somewhat like a madman, talking to some probably non-organic yet somehow still sentient being that could fly, record and replay what it saw and heard, and seemingly change its mass too if the situation called for it. Narain didn't even attempt to analyse that part, figuring that he might as well label it as magic and not pursue the matter any further.

It was decidedly peculiar, but it definitely had its uses. After all, though prying the story from Krory's mouth would probably also have worked, Timcanpy did show things from an alternate angle that largely included the actions of the rest of those involved, making it far easier for Narain to piece together what had actually taken place.

All things considered, though it certainly wasn't the worst, it wasn't a very pretty scenario. Frankly, it had been even worse than the scene Narain had stumbled into a short while after said events had already transpired. Or rather, Narain had arrived just in time to ensure that things didn't go any worse than they already had.

All things considered, though Narain did feel somewhat conflicted about having arrived when he had; some part of him was glad about it, seeing that they might not have all made it out alive if he had made it there beforehand. After all, a late arrival as it might've been, it had still come with the element of surprise and with a few chakrams; war-quoits.

Considering the trouble that Timothy and the others had apparently had with Level-Threes prior to this, it was surprising how easily they had fallen after a bit of joint effort between him and Krory, with him aiming to distract and damage the lot before a blood-covered Krory tore into them.

Thinking back, Narain could not help but quietly ponder the sheer contrast with the Krory now ‒ tired and grim-looking but at the same time strangely meek ‒ and the Krory then, ferocious, to say the very least. 'Blood-crazed and desperate' would have been another way of putting it, especially hindsight, but Narain knew to keep his thoughts to himself on that matter as well, for obvious reasons.

Speaking of which‒ "Krory."

The other looked up.

"Timcanpy."

The golem stirred.

"This applies to you as well."

Having gained the attention of those in the room who were both sentient and responsive, Narain held up his wrist, gesturing to the ring of red crystal snugly wrapped around it and the stigmata connected to it. "This remains between us, understood?"

Krory frowned but dipped his head in acknowledgement nonetheless.

Timcanpy beat his wings once, seemingly demanding an explanation.

"Insurance," Narain responded simply, pulling his sleeves back down to cover up the rings. "It could increase our odds of surviving the suicidal rescue mission."

**-o0o-**

True to Narain's voiced estimation, Timothy Hearst did wake up. Equally true to Narain's voiced estimation, Timothy Hearst did wake up complaining. And lastly, equally true to Narain's _un_voiced estimation, the other's state could hardly be described as lucid.

It had taken the joint efforts of him and Krory to subdue Timothy without either of them being hurt or possessed in the process. Naturally, some sedatives also played their part in ensuring that the patient stayed down and out of it, giving Timothy's body more time to recover before he headed out and wreaked it all over again.

For once, Krory and Timcanpy seemed to agree with Narain on this point. Naturally, Timothy did not, but someone wounded and concussed could only do so much against someone who had dealt with their share of uncooperative patients in the past.

Besides, having made sure that the damage dealt probably wasn't enough to cripple the other for life, the use of sedatives did give Narain the opportunity to head out on another expedition to start with the preparations Timothy would no doubt demand the next time he resurfaced. Again, Krory and Timcanpy seemed to agree.

Thus, Narain left again in the morning and headed for the docks to scout out any possible targets to board. In the distance, he noted the arrival of what looked to be army vessels, or alternatively, they might be some type of defensively equipped merchant ships. Then again, Narain was a medical student and not an expert on sea vessels; he'd seen boats before ‒ even a steamboat at some point ‒ but the sea? Nope, nope and nope. Even so, he thought they looked kind of bulky compared to most other boats he'd seen; not that he'd seen that many or anything.

Timothy was the expert when it came to fraternising with people, taking a page out of Cross' manual of manipulating people no doubt. Besides, if normal persuasion didn't work, then there were alternate means, means by no means available to Narain himself.

Naturally, the option of letting Timothy borrow someone else's body in order to do the talking later was still available, but that was not to say that nothing could be done in the meantime; some degree of reconnaissance wasn't beyond Narain's abilities, after all.

It was with those thoughts that Narain made his casual approach, pausing only to exchange greetings with a few locals who had assembled by the sidelines to watch the spectacle. Equally casually, he wondered what the ships could possibly be doing there, learning through word of mouth that the ships were headed further eastward. No one could tell him why though, but Narain hadn't expected them to know that much either; the crew would have little business to discuss their eventual destination and mission with any locals. That's not what Narain himself would've done at any rate.

It'd probably take Timothy's network to get them onboard. It was hardly a wasted trip though, and it proved all the more fruitful on the way back as he walked along the riverbank of the Adi Ganga.

There was something floating in the shallows, and it stood out against the muddy waters.

It was not a conscious or logical decision for him to wade out and retrieve it. It wasn't until his fingertips came into contact with the soggy paper that something ‒ like a sense of déjà vu but not really ‒ ran through him. Gingerly, he pulled it from the water, doing so with the utmost care; paper often proved fragile after all, having been soaked in water for who knew how long. The fact it didn't come apart immediately was definitely a good sign, so he waded back onto the riverbank.

"A man who called himself a Noah," he quietly noted. "Carrying a card... _the Prisoner of the List Cage_."

As if his words carried some sort of power, the previously silent card elicited a slight cough. Frankly, it took a great deal out of Narain's self-control not to drop it right then and there. Then again, perhaps having been exposed to Timcanpy's weirdness for an extended period of time had tempered him to novelties such as cards that appeared sentient ‒ sentient, neurotic and rather confused as it turned out. Oh, and yes, it could also talk, and it kept raving about Lord Noah and deleting Allen Walker. Well, well, _well_…

In all his life with all the strangeness and the tragedy that had come to inhabit it, Narain could safely say that he had never ‒ not even in his wildest dreams ‒ imagined that he would ever come to interrogate a card and that it would prove a rather fruitful task at that. Who would've thought?

He returned to the others with a new secret; a sentient card blackmailed into silence.

**-o0o-**

"He's in Edo; he's got to be."

This was the first complete and reasonably intelligible sentence emerging from the mouth of Timothy Hearst following his return to a state of wakefulness.

Krory said nothing and Timcanpy kept his silence as usual. Naturally, it was up to Narain to speak up; to question. "And if he isn't?"

Timothy's response was immediate, not hot-headed as would normally be expected but rather cold and controlled; a simmering rage. "If he's not, then I'll tear the Earl's forces apart until I find him, starting with Edo's."

Narain felt his wrists itching again and folded his arms across his chest to resist the near irresistible urge to scratch them. "And if it's a trap?"

"Of course it's a trap!" Timothy snapped his head up but looked like he instantly regretted it, the aftermath of his remaining concussion no doubt catching up to him. "Of course it's a trap," he then repeated, cradling his head. "Which is why we need to create a successful diversion."

"A diversion?" Narain humoured him, noticing how Krory's head picked up slightly as well.

As expected, still recovering or not, Timothy dived right into it. "We'll think more of it once we get to Shanghai. Cross has one of his favourite sponsors running a brothel over there."

"A brothel?" Narain knew better than to be surprised.

"Yeah, I know, but it's got plenty of resources and connections. It's also a big sponsor of the Black Order, but that shouldn't be much of a problem," Timothy elaborated further, head still cradled in his hands. "Depending on the circumstances, we might even be able to use the Order for this one."

"How?"

"Well, think about it‒" Timothy said, lifting his head but making sure to support his chin. In Narain's eyes ‒ wounds, injuries, weariness and anxiety aside ‒ he looked positively devious. "What if we spread a rumour that Cross is headed for Japan? They might take the bait."

The others looked vaguely hopeful. Narain considered feeding them all a healthy dose of realism, but ultimately opted against it. Besides, it was proven it wasn't even needed.

"But why would they take the bait?" Krory asked. "A rumour shouldn't be enough to‒"

Timothy looked ready to bristle. "They should know by now that the Earl's hunting the generals. We could have Timcanpy show himself all over Shanghai, and then‒"

"But‒"

Narain momentarily considered the merits of letting the lot continue their debate. Figuring there was a definite limit to time as well as to Timothy's energy and patience, Narain finally spoke up. "It could work, even if it's just a rumour."

Immediately, he found himself at the very centre of attention, earning looks containing vastly differing amounts of surprise and scepticism, among other things.

"The Order's top general's already been assaulted, and the rest have received orders to return to headquarters with an escort." Narain unfolded his arms and walked up to the window, seating himself on the sill of it.

"Escort?" Krory repeated, frowning, just as the same time as Timothy, wearing a similar but all the more dangerous expression, asked just how he'd gotten hold of this info. Thankfully, Narain had a perfectly plausible explanation that did not involve the sentient card he had previously interrogated.

Narain retrieved the silver button that he'd fashioned into a makeshift amulet, throwing it over into the mildly startled Timothy's lap. "There were three exorcists attacked over by the Taj Mahal the day after you left. The attacker was the same as the one who attacked you."

There was a brief pause; a beat of terse silence. "Noah?" Timothy finally uttered, scrutinising the button now.

"_A_ Noah," Narain clarified. "According to this guy, they appear to be the Earl's elite force."

"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Krory wondered quietly.

Narain smiled somewhat apologetically at that. "I figured I might as well wait until you could all hear it."

"This Suman Dark guy survived the encounter?"

Narain directed his attention back to Timothy, who was still eyeing the silver trinket with keen interest. "He sold his comrades out and had to part with his Innocence, but yeah, he _survived_."

"And he just up and _confessed_ _everything_ to you?"

Narain shrugged mildly at that. "I can be very persuasive."

Timothy made a definite face at that.

"I do rather believe it is true," Krory added, bemused. "You see, Narain persuaded the innkeepers that we were gods and could stay here free of charge."

If anything, Timothy looked positively stupefied. Within moments though, he seemed to recover, no doubt having been reminded of the main issue at hand. "So you basically threatened to literally spill his guts if he didn't do it figuratively and then came here to warn us about this Noah person?"

Well, technically speaking‒ "Something like that."

For now, Timothy seemed satisfied to leave it at that and to move along to other, far more important matters. "We need to get Allen back."

Krory sent a look his way and then one in Narain's and then back again. "But what if he's‒?"

"He's alive," Timothy cut off, deadpan.

"How can you tell?" Krory insisted, looking pained and frustrated.

"I just can," Timothy affirmed, burying his face in his hands once more. "It's not just a hunch."

Again, they lapsed into a terse and a tad uneasy silence. "The Level Three Incident," Krory finally noted, frowning and folding his arms across his chest.

Timothy offered up no visible or audible response beyond drawing a harsh breath and releasing it slowly.

"But‒" Krory went on, remaining unchallenged. "If Allen really has an inherent ability to command akuma, then why wouldn't the Earl want him killed?"

Narain looked at Timothy, who looked grim in return. Unbeknownst to the latter, he wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

"The eyes," Timothy finally volunteered. "The Noah's eyes, what did they look like to you?"

"Amber-coloured, slit pupils." Krory unfolded his arms and then refolded them. "How so?"

Timothy looked just about ready to bury his face in his hands again, voice quiet as he went on speaking. "After Allen tried bringing back his foster father, his eyes looked exactly like that."

There was another beat of silence. And then‒ "He's one of them?"

It was Krory asking. It was Krory asking and Timothy bristling, and Narain and Timcanpy watching them both.

"He's one of _us_; one of _mine_ at the very least. Besides, Mana's eyes were also like that, and he sure as Hell wasn't some murdering psycho." Timothy narrowed his eyes, eyes making a quick sweep over Narain before landing upon Krory and sharpening into a pointed glare. "So don't be so quick to judge."

"If he's of their kind, then he isn't be the same as them," Timothy concluded, tearing his gaze from Krory in favour of directing it at Narain, undiminished in strength as if daring him to question it.

Naturally, Narain obliged. "And if they do somehow manage to turn him against you?"

Timothy positively scowled at that. "Then help me God, I'll turn him back."

Narain exchanged a look with Krory as they both now stood, leaning against different walls but with their arms folded across their chests all the same. Then, since Krory inclined his head slightly to indicate that Narain should be the one to speak first, he went right ahead and did just that. "If you truly believe Allen is still alive, if only at the Earl's mercy, then so be it. Neither of you are currently in any shape to pursue nor will you be within the foreseeable future."

Timothy's expression darkened visibly, leaving him looking very much like a growl was about to escape him. Still, it wasn't enough; not by miles.

"Thanks to his Innocence and general resilience, Krory will likely be good enough to move around with little or no assistance within the next few days or so. So, he is technically speaking _physically_ able to travel, but only just so. Now, you on the other hand‒" Narain paused, scrutinising the other with obvious disapproval. "Tim, your left ankle is broken in two places and your right arm's broken in three. That is in addition to a broken collarbone, two or three fractured ribs, an obvious concussion and a probable skull fracture. Imagine what kind of irresponsible person, not to mention medical student, I would have to be if I let you run around in such a state?"

Naturally, Timothy's only response was to deepen his glower. Naturally, it was just what Narain had expected.

"No objections." He held his hands up in front of him before refolding his arms once more, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "For now, I've done what I can, but your wounds will require further monitoring in order to make sure everything heals up the way it should. Further monitoring is needed, and by someone qualified at that."

"I can manage," the stubborn suicidal idiot insisted, attempting to get up further only to abruptly abort the mission to hold his ribcage, inhaling sharply. "There's no time."

"If Allen can make it for two days, then he can make it for a week, because it'll take at least that long for us to get to Shanghai by sea, even if I make arrangements today."

Pained or not, Timothy picked his head up at that. "Make arrangements?"

"Arrangements," Narain confirmed, dipping his head slightly. "Given that you lot are stubborn, Innocence-bearing fools much too eager to head off and get yourselves killed, I'd wager that you'll be up and running towards the end of that, be it at a limited capacity."

"You're coming with us?"

Timothy seemed too startled by the realisation to notice that no one else was.

Narain just shrugged mildly. "It would be highly irresponsible of me to let you out of my sight before I could trust that you could trip without falling and impaling yourself upon one of your fractured ribs."

Though pained and obviously making an effort not to make it too obvious, Timothy apparently felt the need to comment. "Morbid."

"Not entirely medically accurate anyways; you'd be far more likely to puncture a lung on those than impale yourself."

"Definitely morbid."

**-o0o-**

A day and a half later, they were already on their way and travelling fairly quickly at that ‒ comparatively speaking, of course.

Krory found himself joined by Narain where he stood some distance away from the actual crew, on the lookout for any approaching danger.

So far, things had proven fairly uneventful; monotonous, even. However, Krory was hardly one to wish for there to be more action either; they had already had far more than enough action as of late, so Krory himself would rather have a tedious and uneventful journey than a highly stressful one.

From the looks of it, Narain felt the same.

"Timcanpy's watching over Tim, so he'll come and fetch us if there's an issue," Narain commented upon reaching him over by the railing, leaning heavily against it.

"How did you know?" Krory noted with some semblance of amusement; he'd already assumed as much, after all.

Leaning more heavily against the railing, Narain muttered something about facial expressions and body language. To Krory's eyes, he looked decidedly tired, but that much was to be expected after all, somewhat thrown right into everything as the other was.

Truth to be told, Krory found himself rather impressed by how quickly the other had adapted to the new circumstances at hand. Actually, coming to think of it, Narain almost seemed to be dealing with things the best out of all of them, even though it did seem to have taken quite a bit out of him to do so, physically as well as mentally.

"It's not your fault, you know," Narain went on to say, seemingly reading a whole lot into his silence. "If anything, if it wasn't for you, then Tim wouldn't be here now. If left untreated, then the swelling would no doubt have caused significant brain damage, so it's largely thanks to you that Tim's still here. You did the sensible thing and stayed down instead of attempting to launch yourself at an enemy far superior to you in terms of strength and experience. Tim would have done the complete opposite, I'm sure. But that doesn't mean it would have yielded any good results."

Krory made no move to challenge this fact. Admittedly, he had initially felt very bad about waking up to the realisation that he had, in a sense, prioritised ensuring his own and Timothy's survival above putting himself between Allen and the enemy. Naturally, young Timothy would've objected to this decision. At that particular point in time though, the latter had been anything but physically able to do anything about it. It also helped that the other didn't know that Krory had actually had the opportunity to make that prioritisation, a prioritisation now validated by an at least somewhat qualified medical opinion.

"Back then, you commented that I sounded like I was expecting for something unfortunate to occur," Narain noted further; Krory's own memories of their conversation back in Agra inevitably made themselves reminded, so he acknowledged both their presence and Narain's statement with a slight nod. "Something unfortunate did occur, but it certainly wasn't the worst, and quite frankly, I'm glad you were there."

That made two of them.

"You're here, Tim's here, and Allen's alive." Narain covered up a yawn with his hand. "It's not the best outcome, but it's certainly not the worst."

"What would have been the worst?"

This earned him a raised eyebrow. Moments later though, said eyebrow lowered to join its counterpart in a slight frown.

Still frowning, Narain tilted his head to stare down into the dark waves that impacted upon the ship's hull. Then, he lifted his gaze to stare at the sun as it was about to retreat beneath the horizon. "The worst would have been Allen being killed and Tim being there to see it. He would have self-destructed in no time at all."

Of this, Krory had little doubt. Still‒ "What if ‒ God forbid ‒ something unfortunate were to happen to Allen at the hands of the Earl?"

He received a slight shrug at that. "Then he'll do what he said he'll do; he'll tear the Earl's forces apart, starting with those in Edo. It'll be a virtual suicide mission, in case you can't tell."

Coming to think of it, Narain had already mentioned the part about it being suicidal. Actually, Narain had already mentioned the suicidal part of it several times over, some more or less flippantly. Frankly, it was getting just a tad unnerving.

"Even so‒" Krory finally managed. "Do you believe there is the chance of us succeeding?"

"From an outsider's perspective, I'd say that there is." Narain straightened, grabbing the railing with his hands now. "Tim's hardly temperate, but he's definitely resourceful. Besides, he's survived under Cross Marian's tutelage, so that definitely speaks in his favour."

"Besides‒" Narain shot off a decidedly amused look in Krory's direction. "Having someone as resilient as you along, I'd say it's definitely possible. From an outsider's perspective, that is."

Krory let out an amused scoff in return. "Considering past actions and recent events, you seem very involved for an outsider."

Still smiling thinly, Narain rubbed at his wrists; at the tightly wound rings hidden beneath layer upon layer of fabric. "What would you've done, in my shoes? Would you've been able to stay put and do nothing?"

All things considered, he probably wouldn't. Then again‒ "Does Tim‒?"

"He'll know once he's coherent enough to check Timcanpy's recordings." Narain shrugged mildly. "Tsukikami might know already, but it's just as possible that he doesn't, depending on how much damage he's taken."

Krory nodded solemnly at that. The full extent of the damage had after all yet to be properly determined.

"It's a bit ironic though, that this is what manifested out of my will… not a defensive weapon meant to shield or to heal, but an offensive one meant to cut." Again, Narain fingered the layers of rags wrapped around his wrists, looking both conflicted and thoughtful. "What does this say about me, I wonder?"

For once, Krory found that he could not only relate but also had a story of his own to tell. "I ended up with these after being bitten by a plant. All my teeth just fell out."

A beat of silence followed. A quick glance was able to confirm the incredible; Narain was gaping. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Krory affirmed. "It was rather distressing."

Narain still looked somewhat in awe ‒ yet also horrified ‒ by the thought of someone's teeth falling out all at once, leaving Krory to pick the next topic of conversation.

"Those throwing things… do they hold any particular meaning?"

Again, Narain seemed somewhat surprised by the question. He recovered fairly quickly though, covering up another yawn. "They're _chakram_, Krory, war-quoits. Well, technically, these are _chakri_, which is a small variant. The Sikhs use them a lot. They also happen to be the choice weapon of our supreme god Narayana."

"_Narayana?"_ Krory repeated. "But isn't that‒?"

"My name, yes." Narain nodded. "It's a bit of a mouthful though ‒ a tad pretentious too, I suppose ‒ so I usually go by Narain."

"Your parents named you after a god?"

He received a mild shrug in response. "Who knows what they were thinking? Perhaps they had high hopes for me, considering the fact that they gave my sister such a modest name. Mina; it means 'fish', though it's also the name of a daughter of Goddess Ushas and Kubera, the Lord of Wealth and the North, so…"

"You appear to have a lot of gods," Krory noted.

Narain scoffed at that. "I'm hardly that much of a believer, but someone seems to appreciate the irony."

All things considered, Krory could hardly disagree.

Beside him, Narain pulled out his makeshift talisman.

"You kept it," Krory noted.

"I kept it," Narain affirmed, looking at it. "It's silver after all."

Krory wondered if the fact that it being silver held any kind of significance beyond the monetary value of the metal itself. In the end though, he opted not to ask about it.

"Besides," Narain added after a bit of a pause, angling the button so that he could look at the name inscribed on the back of it. "I might as well remember the name just in case."

"Because his Innocence is now in you?"

Narain didn't respond immediately, continuing to stare at the name in silence. "It's a reminder, I suppose; a reminder and a warning."

"A warning?"

"Say, Ary…"

Krory quirked an eyebrow at the sudden reemploy of the nickname. He didn't comment though, and simply waited for the other to continue.

"The name Suman… it sounds a bit ironic to me."

"How so?"

"In Sanskrit, it means that someone is well-disposed; that they have a good mind," Narain sighed, putting the talisman back where it belonged. "For all that I could see, he didn't seem to possess very good judgement. He might've escaped his death and his immediate judgement by betraying his comrades and disposing of his Innocence, but wherever he intended to go, I honestly doubt that he made it."

In the quiet recesses of his mind, Krory wondered if they wouldn't either.

**-o0o-**


	6. The Foundling

_**Last edited April 18**__**th**__** 2016.**_

**-o0o-**

**The "Foundling"**

**-o0o-**

Tyki Mikk's week had started off normally enough.

An unusually large influx of work from his boss had ensured that Tyki would be able to spend next to no time with his human companions and a whole lot more time on hunting down exorcists. Then again, that was _not_ to say that the latter activity was in any way unpleasant, because Tyki really enjoyed it. Or rather, he had enjoyed it up until a certain point. Said point had probably been when an unofficial exorcist ‒ Cross Marian's apprentice? ‒ had head-butted him right into oblivion ‒ and Awakening, as it later turned out.

As a result, the once so human Tyki Mikk had found his return to his human life utterly impossible.

Initially, it had been snapping back to his senses with the white-haired exorcist boy's hand on his cheek, far too stunned himself to do anything about it even as the boy himself appeared to regain his senses, similarly disoriented but all the more distressed.

Secondly, it was taking in the changes to his appearance and to his surroundings since he had last seen them. Admittedly, waking up to the scene of a bloody carnage was a definite plus. Waking up with far longer hair and new markings all over his body was surprising, but with the latter fading and the former less of an issue, Tyki had swiftly moved onto other, far more relevant things.

Other, far more relevant things should've included putting an end to the exorcists that were still breathing out of the bunch. What it did include however was catching and subduing the littlest exorcist, and to deal with a viciously attacking golem in the process.

Thirdly, it was exchanging words with his target ‒ a target that was no longer a target for elimination but rather for something else. What this _something _was confounded him. But, at that particular moment in time, it had meant retrieval rather than elimination.

The card floating in the water containing the List and its keeper was far from his mind. Instead, Tyki Mikk had pulled a weakly coughing, soaked and shivering exorcist from the shallows.

Even soaked, the boy had appeared much too small and much too young to be a significant threat to the Earl. But his name was on the List, and it had been the sound of his voice that had snapped Tyki back to his own senses. And he was familiar; Tyki's Inner Noah had definitely recognised him. "Are you cold?"

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a whisper against the side of his throat. "Put me down."

"You didn't really answer my question."

The boy's breathing caught briefly, and then grew harsher. "Put me down!"

Tyki shushed him, securing his grip. "All in good time, _menino_, all in good time…"

All in all, disregarding Eez, Tyki Mikk had only a tiny amount of experience in how to deal with children. Then again, more than just a few members of the Noah family were extremely prone to bouts of childish behaviour ‒ exceeding those of actual children ‒ meaning that he wasn't entirely out of his depth.

As things appeared though, luckily, the boy had already exhausted his energy, falling limp at last.

"_Menino?"_

Allen Walker didn't respond, but was still breathing. So were his comrades, but with the Level Threes dropping in, the latter issue could certainly be remedied. Normally, Tyki would've done the honours himself, but now‒

"Lord Noah."

He turned slightly, levelling his gaze on the akuma addressing him. "Yeah?"

"The Earl summons you. A gate will open momentarily."

And at that very moment, the deadweight in Tyki's arms came back to life and struggling at that, forcing Tyki to tighten his grip.

"Whoa‒ hey, hey ‒it's okay, it's okay, _menino_?"

He got socked in the jaw for his efforts, and by the Innocence-bearing left at that.

"Lord Noah?"

Heck, even the Level Three seemed concerned. Thankfully, Tyki's reanimated burden decided to become deadweight again.

"No, it's fine. We're good now, aren't we, _menino_?" He jostled the other slightly, and judging from the lack of a response, the matter wasn't up to debate.

Even so, the akuma appeared doubtful. "Are you sure about this, Lord Noah?"

"Are you questioning my judgement?" Tyki drawled, making sure that his burden was once again secure.

"No, milord." Hah.

**-o0o-**

Actually, Tyki Mikk found himself questioning his own judgement soon after the fact and especially when he exited the gate only to come face to face with the Duke, recalling at that very moment that he had forgotten about retrieving the list card from before. Oops.

Coincidentally, the deadweight also seemed to choose that very moment to notice that; not the card, mind you, but the person who had originally issued it. Allen Walker noticed the Duke and was noticed in return, and reacted in the most peculiar way imaginable, burying his face into the crook of Tyki's neck and clinging to him; it was decidedly ironic, considering the earlier struggle. Even more ironically, it seemed to irritate the Duke.

"You need not fear me, child." The Duke reached out, and Allen Walker gave a definite flinch, burying his face more deeply into the crook of Tyki's neck. The hand was retracted, seemingly with reluctance. "He seems to have grown quite attached to you, Tyki-pet."

Uwa. "I'm sure that it's just a passing phase, Duke. He throws a mean uppercut."

**-o0o-**

As it turned out, it wasn't just a passing phase. As a result, Tyki had found himself taken off of active exorcist-killing duty and onto killing time minding their littlest hostage. After all, the alternatives proved limited, with Allen Walker's apparent allergy towards being in the presence of akuma for any extended period of time. It was actually due to a curse that made the little guy see the souls powering the akuma, but viewing it as an allergy of sorts was a funnier way of putting it.

As a result of Allen's inability to remain in akuma-crowded environments for extended periods of time, the Duke had abruptly declared certain areas of the Ark off-limits to the akuma. To say the very least, it was a lot of consideration for someone who was supposedly a hostage. Then again, as far as hostages went‒

Standing outside of said hostage's room in the Ark, Tyki could not help but be reminded of how things had changed in just the few days that had passed since the incident.

Minutes prior, the Duke had exited the room, looking every bit as human as he usually did upon exiting, completely devoid of the outer shell for which the man was all the more known. Hell, Tyki himself hadn't immediately recognised the man the first time around. In the days that followed though, people had more or less realised that they had to get used to it whether they liked it or not.

All in all, certain gestures and events conveyed their obvious message; the Duke had a new favourite, and it was a hostage who might or might not be their kinsman and one capable of wielding Innocence to the boot. Had someone suggested this to Tyki a week or even mere hours prior to it becoming a fact, then he probably wouldn't have believed them.

The first time he saw it, he didn't believe it either. From the looks of the rest of the clan that had been there to bear witness the fact, he wasn't the only one. If anything, then he and Road seemed to be coping with the situation the best out of all of them.

He was broken out of his reverie as the door next to him creaked open.

"Yo," he greeted, breaking out of his slouch against the nearest wall. "Sleep well?"

Allen Walker didn't dignify that with a response; too busy fiddling with the cuffs of his dress shirt from the looks of it. "Breakfast," he uttered instead, his voice a tad hoarse. "Will you be joining us, Tyki-_pet_?"

Tyki felt his eyebrow spontaneously twitch but quickly blanked out the first suggestion that came to mind about how to properly respond to all of that. "You seem to be coping oddly well with all of this," he decided at last, crouching down so that they were at approximately the same level, being mindful of his own injuries while doing so.

Silver-grey eyes levelled upon him, narrowing slightly. "I don't deal well with starvation."

"Sound attitude," Tyki agreed, extending his hand. "Well then, shall we?"

"I'm not holding hands with you," Allen countered, deadpan.

Sighing exasperatedly, Tyki retracted the hand and straightened back up. "Whatever you say, as long as you behave," he offered with a mild shrug.

"Define behave," proved to be the deadpan response.

They'd done this routine before, nearly line by line too. Frankly, Tyki was getting a bit sick of it. "Don't attack anyone, and don't leave my side unless the Duke calls for you. Obey him. And if possible, try not to provoke him."

"Easier said than done."

_This snarky little brat‒_ "Yeah, I know. Been there, done that," Tyki offered simply as he moved past, gesturing for the other to follow. "Black sheep of the family, remember?"

"Why?"

Why? Why, he wondered. In part, the fact that he had yet to truly and fully awaken as a Noah had probably played its part in him being regarded as such. "Perhaps it's because they think that I'm still too human ‒ or that I used to be, at least."

The statement was met with silence. Tyki honestly didn't know what he might've expected, but Allen reaching up to tug at his sleeve and forcing him to stop wasn't it. "Yes?"

"How's the view from up there?"

Okay, that was definitely random. Tyki hummed thoughtfully. "The view?"

"You're seriously tall," Allen finally elaborated, retaining the grip on his sleeve. "Compared to me."

Tyki wondered. "I somehow doubt it's in any way spectacular. But I could show you if you like?" he finally suggested.

"You could," Allen deadpanned, relinquishing the grip at last.

"I could," Tyki agreed.

Moments later, he had a brat riding on his back. "Better?"

Instead of offering up either a confirmation or a denial, the brat saw it fit to relay something completely unrelated. "They'll come after you, you know?"

_They?_ "Who?"

"Tim and the others."

_Tim?_ "Hoh? And what makes you so sure about that? That they haven't already left you for dead?" ‒That they themselves _aren't_ dead.

"Because Tim's persistent, and considers himself my big brother."

_Brother?_ "Hoh? I happen to have an older brother myself, and he's the annoying sort that won't shut up about the joys of family life."

"Is that so?" The brat sounded intrigued, yet strangely understanding.

"Yep. He simply won't shut up about his docile, sickly wife and even less about his adopted daughter."

"Sounds bothersome."

"It is," Tyki readily revealed as they continued onward towards the dining area. "How about you then?"

"How about what?" the brat countered.

"Family life?" Tyki clarified.

"None of your business." And there it was again, a deadpan yet decidedly defensive response.

"Hoh?"

There was a beat of silence and it stretched onward.

"I turned my foster father into an akuma," the boy finally revealed, speaking quietly against Tyki's throat. "He cursed me and forced me to kill him."

_Hoh?_ "When did this happen?"

"Two or three years ago."

Two or three years? "Must've been tough."

"Tim's had it worse; much, much worse."

This Tim again. "Hoh? Why is that?"

There was a shaky exhalation against his neck. Again, Tyki found himself wondering.

"Cross."

"Hoh?"

The mention of this persona non grata, who was if not at the very top then at the very least in the top five on the Duke's hit list, naturally caught Tyki's attention. He didn't ask however.

After all, if there was any information to be extracted, then the Duke would no doubt do the honours himself, considering the fact that the man only tolerated Tyki's continued presence because Allen seemed to have grown somewhat attached to him ‒ strangely enough, one might add.

Then again, on some level, Tyki found that he could understand the kid's behaviour. When one became stuck in new and unfamiliar environments with new and unfamiliar people, it did make sense to stick close to whatever was the least unfamiliar.

Once they arrived at their destination, they were both walking, one slightly ahead of the other.

**-o0o-**

It pretty much went without saying that Allen Walker had woken up, in an unfamiliar but treacherously comfortable bed, to a world of frustrated confusion.

His own recollections on how he had ended up there in the first place were fragmentary at best, and without Timothy or Timcanpy around to verify and to fill in the blanks, Allen would simply have to try and do this on his own.

Some recollections were evidently much clearer than others though, and it was them he focused upon first, trying to put them in order to figure out the sequence of the actual events and to separate them from attached fragments of half-formed nightmares.

First, it was the fight that had taken place by, on and across the Adi Ganga.

Then, there was the Noah and the Earl and the akuma and everything being too much to handle.

Then, his head and heart were both pounding furiously as he fought and squirmed against the arms restraining him, and then there was the Earl's face and it was too close for comfort, and a voice speaking his name and a hand beneath his chin, forcing his thrashing to end and his face upwards.

"Allen," the Earl had said, speaking calmly. "Do you know who I am?"

"The Millennium Earl," had been Allen's response to the fact.

A caress had followed. Allen had flinched.

"Very good," the madman had said, calm yet pleased. "Now tell me, Allen, do you know where you are?"

"No." He was in enemy hands; what more was there to it?

"Well, would you care to venture a guess?"

He had huffed at that, as much as the hand still holding his chin would allow. "No."

"And why is that?"

Sick of them playing mind games with him, he had snarled at them only for them to start acting all condescending, patronising him.

"Tut, tut. None of that now, child," they had said. "You might hurt yourself," they had said, as if he hadn't been hurt enough already, and by them no less ‒ indirectly at any rate.

He had told them to stop playing games then.

"Who's playing games, Allen?" they had asked him, to which Allen had snapped for them to kill him and get things over with already, to which they in turn had responded with a simple "Why should I?".

That last comment, along with the surge of frustrated anger that surged in response to it, had effectively overloaded his senses and simultaneously drained his body of whatever energy reserves had up until then kept him going.

When Allen had woken up next, even groggier than previously, there had been a man seated at his bedside, wishing him a good morning, a greeting to which Allen had offered up a very intelligent response.

The man had scolded him then. "It's not 'huh', but 'Good morning', Allen," they had said, and it had only been around then that Allen had actually turned his bleary eyes in the other's direction, properly registering them.

The man bore an eerie resemblance to Mana, but called himself Adam. "I have many names, some of which are more pleasant than others, but you may use that one," Adam had said, generously adding "And in return, I'll call you Allen."

He had offered up a noncommittal response at the time, temporarily too numb to care about anything in general.

"Are you hungry, Allen?" Adam had then asked.

"No," Allen had said, just as his stomach decided to commit mutiny against him. "Yes."

The man had held out a hand for him to take. "Then shall we?" he had asked.

Instead of obliging, Allen had asked about Tyki's whereabouts.

The other had looked decidedly put out at that. "Out. Why do you ask?"

Allen had offered up a slight shrug in response.

"Shall I summon him for you?" Adam had then offered.

"You can do that?" Allen had wondered.

"I can," Adam ‒ the Earl ‒ had generously offered. "Would you like me to?"

Allen had offered up a nod at that.

"Then what would you like for breakfast?"

It had been a decidedly puzzling offer. "I can ask for anything?"

"Within reason."

"Aaaaanything?"

"If you ask for a great deal, then it might take some time to make it," Adam had offered, rising to his feet. "But by all means, do tell me what you want and I'll see what can be accommodated."

It was still a decidedly puzzling offer. "Really?"

"Really."

He had then rattled off what most would have considered an absolutely ridiculously long list of things, fully expecting it to be rejected. Instead, it had been readily accepted.

"Alright, I'll go see what I can do," Adam had said, heading for the door. "When you're ready, Tyki'll be waiting. Apparently it's quite easy to get lost in this place."

And with those words, the Earl had departed, leaving Allen to try and make sense of what had just occurred and of the situation into which he had apparently been thrust.

The situation in itself had been and had remained utterly bizarre.

However, instincts honed by the years he had spent in the general vicinity of Cross, Allen had done what he had deemed sensible at that point; he'd decided to run with it until he had a better grasp of just what the heck was going on around him.

It was during these circumstances that he had begun to familiarise himself with Tyki Mikk, finding the man's company preferable to that of the Earl, who proved creepy regardless of whether he wore his crazy and only partially humanoid costume or not.

Besides, odd as it might've sounded, Allen felt safe around Tyki. Perhaps the knowledge that he had managed to put an end to the man's rampage and that Timothy and Krory had apparently walked away from the encounter with their lives intact reassured him to some degree.

Then again, perhaps it was just as accurate to claim that his assurance stemmed from the fact that the Earl himself had apparently issued some type of order that Allen shouldn't be injured any further than he already was ‒ which was to say very little, seeing that his head and the occasional surge of pain up his left arm aside, there were mostly just bruises remaining.

Surprisingly, the Earl seemed into the habit of taking good care of his hostages; of important ones at any rate. Then again, Allen privately supposed that if they weren't that important, then there was probably little point in taking them hostage to begin with.

As far as Allen himself and his position were concerned, then the natural thing was to assume it had something to do with Cross; his name had been on the same hit list after all.

Why his own name was there but not Timothy's was a bit of a mystery though. Then again, perhaps it was all just something as simple as a case of mistaken identity; perhaps they had really been after Timothy but had gotten him instead.

Then again, perhaps they hadn't made a mistake. Perhaps the Cross connection was just a secondary thing, meaning that there was still another ‒ primary ‒ reason for him to be abducted as opposed to killed on the spot.

Allen kept thinking about it, but he had yet to find anything concrete.

"I wish Tim was here," he whispered, burying his face in the pillow, inhaling it. "I wish Tim was‒"

His eyes were stinging, but he had already promised himself not to cry so he steeled himself. Crying and wailing wouldn't do him any good after all. He was deep in enemy territory, alone, and in their custody at that. There was really nothing he could do but to keep his head low and wait for rescue, collecting whatever useful information he could in the meanwhile.

Of course, there was also the alternative of sabotage, but Allen didn't even dare to think about it; whatever reason the Earl had to keep him alive, the man might not treat him as charitably if Allen tried anything. Still, just lying or sitting or eating or remaining there was even worse; Allen had to do something about his situation, something to help Timothy and the others, but what? _What?_

He raised himself up so that he was kneeling on the bed, his eyes stinging again with all the frustration piling on top of him. He grabbed the pillow and threw it, collapsing forward onto the bed just in time to hear it hit the wall at the opposite end of the room. He clutched the sheets, his hands forming into tight fists and then loosening, and he turned his head to one side, staring at the bedside table, simply because there was little else to look at in that particular direction.

Over time, his frustration simmered down, gaining the company of boredom stemming from the prolonged state of inactivity. He sat himself up once more, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed now. "We have to continue walking."

He stood up, adjusted his shirt and then he was off.

Putting shoes on didn't even cross his mind as it was suddenly overcome with a new purpose; to walk, to move onto something and somewhere else.

"We have to keep going."

And so, he was out the door.

**-o0o-**

Twenty minutes later, he had gotten himself helplessly lost. Or had he?

Allen stood on a street in the strange cityscape, trying and failing to recall properly how he had gotten from that room to here. It was a false city which imitated a real one but lacked the life of one. It had a different kind of life though, one that Allen could very much feel especially with the distinct lack of birdsong and various sounds of human activity. In a sense, it was alive, and Allen found it very creepy because it felt kind of like it was breathing with no lungs and watching him with no eyes.

The mere thought of it made his skin crawl, and he sat down on the steps. Again, the urge to cry crept up on him, but Allen once again steeled himself, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he attempted to hold back the sniffles that escaped him even so.

'_Don't cry,'_ he thought to himself. _'Crying won't change anything…'_

"I wish Tim was here," he whispered, burying his face into his hands. "I wish that Tim was‒"

"‒_**Allen."**_

He startled violently, his eyes still stinging and his throat still burning as he snapped his head up, expecting to find someone there.

There wasn't.

"‒_**Allen?"**_

Allen blinked repeatedly, tears finally spilling over now that he was far too distracted to hold them back. He wiped them away with his sleeve, scanning his immediate surroundings but finding nothing there that hadn't already been there previously.

"Where are you?" he whispered at last. "Where?"

He felt it clearly then, not so much a movement and a presence on the outside as much as within him; a stirring in his own mind. If anything, this freaked him out even more than the realisation of the living, breathing and watching dead city, and he clutched his head, whispering fervently his denial. _"No-no-no-no-no-no-__**no**__‒ Get out, get out, get out, get out! You're not real! I don't believe in you! I don't believe in‒"_

His breathing hitched as there was a stab of pain in his head, like something had just snapped.

**-o0o-**

Tyki Mikk had taken a five-minute break, just five goddamned minutes and then the brat was gone. By the time Tyki realised this, he was mere moments from panicking, knowing well what the Duke would do to him if he found out about it.

About forty-five minutes down the line, Tyki finally managed to locate his lost charge, and what a discovery it was.

Allen Walker lay at the bottom of a staircase, bleeding from the nose.

Well, if Tyki wasn't panicking before, then he was definitely panicking now.

"Allen? _Menino?_" He pulled him up and propped him up against the nearby wall, pulling out a tissue and using it to stem the blood still flowing sluggishly from the boy's nose as he checked his pulse. Thankfully, the boy appeared to be regaining his senses, so Tyki kept on talking.

"Tyki?" the boy murmured at last, now looking at the bloodied tissue in evident confusion as Tyki kept studying him.

"It's stopped?"

The boy nodded.

"Are you sure?"

The boy nodded again.

"Are you _really_ sure?"

The boy seemed a tad irritated at that and made a move to get up. Tyki moved to stop him. "How many fingers?"

"Three," the boy answered.

"Are you sure?"

The boy looked again, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Yeah, three."

"Alright then."

Tyki allowed him to get up, noting that he moved a bit unsteadily and had to rely on the nearby wall for support, looking quite ill. "Are you _really_ sure?"

He wasn't. "I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

To him, it was probably a question as to what wasn't wrong. _"I'm scared."_

Scared? Tyki paused at that. If anything, then he was the one‒

"It's okay," Tyki reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder, ready to withdraw it in case of a flinch. There was none, so Tyki kept it there, squeezing the thin shoulder in attempted reassurance. "Because you're not alone."

If anything, the boy looked decidedly puzzled at that. "What?"

Let's face it; Tyki barely knew shit about how to deal with children. Though on the other hand‒ "Say, do you know how to play poker?"

The boy nodded.

"How about we get your face washed and have at it?"

The boy nodded again.

This was how Tyki Mikk got conned out of his pocket change. Not too long thereafter, a similar fate befell the Jasdevi duo. It was probably around then that Tyki had fully begun to realise he had created a monster.

"Royal Straight Flush," the boy proudly announced, smiling devilishly. It had been kind of cute the first two or three times around. Now it was just frustrating and utterly humiliating, because they were supposed to be Noah and far superior to regular human beings, even if it was a very irregular human being.

"You're definitely cheating," Tyki muttered, but forked over the stakes nonetheless.

One part of the Jasdevi duo cursed under his breath while the other looked decidedly confused.

Lulu Bell gave a slightly exasperated shrug and then put her cards down.

Sheril looked like he'd bit down upon something sour.

Skinn wasn't even in the game.

Truly, the only ones who looked vaguely amused by the situation besides the white-haired little devil were Road, who wasn't playing, and the Earl, who was, and who didn't look even the slightest bit upset about having gambled away a minor fortune to their sort of prisoner, sort of hostage, sort of… foundling?

"Tyki-pet, you make such unsightly accusations."

**-o0o-**


	7. Eastbound

_Long time no update. _

**-o0o-**

**Eastbound**

**-o0o-**

It would suffice to say that Timothy Hearst had not enjoyed his time as a bedbound cripple, out at sea or otherwise. Arriving in Shanghai however, he made no secret of the fact that he liked his current mode of transportation even less.

"You morbid bastards." He lay in cramped darkness, gritting his teeth as another bump in the road rocked the cart, aggravating wounds that were certainly healing albeit agonisingly slowly. Narain had clearly disagreed on this though, having muttered that Timothy's healing rate was in fact abnormal the last time the matter had been discussed.

"Morbid bastards," Timothy repeated through gritted teeth, willing himself to endure.

There was a light knock from above; on the lid, rather close to his head, and he heard Narain scoff from some point farther away.

"_Your complaints can wait until we arrive,"_ Narain muttered in Hindi, clicking his tongue as he reined in the horses. _"We don't want questions about a talking coffin,"_ he added and Timothy found that he could very much imagine the scowl accompanying the statement.

Whether it was morbid or not, it did make some degree of sense for Timothy to be travelling inside of a coffin rather than alongside one. After all, given the likelihood of the Earl having agents in the vicinity and the fact that Timothy's face was by no means unknown in the area, it only made sense for Timothy to keep a low profile and to stay out of sight until they made it safely into friendly territory. Doing so inside of an actual coffin however was not what Timothy had had in mind when the issue was first breached. With a coffin being readily made available to them though, he had eventually been forced to yield to the opposition.

"They believe you died; the crew," Krory muttered from above, confirming his position. "I was asked to tell them that we were bringing your body back to your mother in Shanghai."

It was a decent cover story; Timothy had to admit as much. Evidently, Narain was responsible, because Krory would not have thought up such a morbid scheme; that much was for sure.

Of course, given that Narain was behind it, perhaps Timothy ought to ask himself whether or not Narain had intended for this to serve as a message to Timothy as well, as a reminder of his own mortality.

If such was indeed the case, then Timothy found it fairly redundant; after that hellish torture of a sea voyage, he hardly needed another reminder of the fact.

Narain's diagnosis of Timothy's condition had included several broken bones, a probable skull fracture and a severe concussion. By now, the concussion was mostly gone, although a headache stubbornly lingered, along various other injuries that ranged from painful to positively agonising whenever they were jarred. It was relatively easy getting used to it though, especially with the help of some morphine. He would have to cut down on the latter soon though, for obvious reasons.

Before they had left the ship, they had utilised their privacy to the fullest, going through their game plan while Narain checked the state of Timothy's broken bones, cleaning and redressing injuries.

The left ankle, previously broken in two places, had seemed to be healing up nicely, even though Narain had insisted that Timothy, even with his abnormal healing rate, would still be limping for at least another week.

The right arm, broken in three places, was in a similar state, which was nice. The joints and fingers all moved the way they should, and with the morphine still in his bloodstream, it was not even _that_ painful. Narain had been quick to put Timothy's arm back into a brace though, securing it to his chest.

The broken collarbone was also doing well, and the same could be said for his ribs, which was an obvious relief because aside from the obvious head injury, injuries that could possibly compromise precious inner organs should not be taken lightly. Or so Narain had said, his fingertips mapping out the shape of Timothy's scalp, more satisfied with his progress than disapproving of his recklessness.

Timothy had known better than to complain after all, having been under Narain's care during far less dignified circumstances. Of course, had it not been for the broken bones, then Timothy would probably have made an even bigger fool of himself.

Of course, it was safe to say that he had felt rather miserable back when he had been puking into a bucket, being sick over and over. However, it was not as though he had not found things to feel miserable about when he had been reasonably coherent.

Timcanpy had, rather gleefully as it would seem, apparently recorded all instances when Timothy had been less than coherent, meaning that there was plenty of material for Timothy to be embarrassed about.

At least Narain had the courtesy of not bringing it up, but who really knew how long said courtesy would last.

The cart rocked again, and Timothy hissed despite trying not to. Really, in hindsight, he ought to have gone along with the suggestion of being knocked out prior to being put inside the coffin for transportation, but oh no, his inherent need for control had refused to go along with such a sensible suggestion.

"It should be somewhere around here, right?"

Timothy quietly hated the fact that he could see little but darkness, steeling himself to hold on just a little longer. _"Tsukikami."_

"_Yeah, yeah, it's right around the corner, Master. Maybe we should not head for the front entrance though,"_ Tsukikami noted, speaking up for the first time in actual days; back when Timothy had been largely delirious, they had held quite a few conversations and even a few arguments, and in Narain's and Timcanpy's presence at that. Coming to think of it, hadn't Tsukikami‒

He put the matter aside from now, concentrating on the matter at hand. "The place is just around the corner, but we need to go around it, to the back of the building."

Krory repeated the instructions to Narain who muttered something under his breath; it sounded suspiciously much like he was asking which kind _idiot_ would even consider entering from the front. Well, Timothy imagined there had to be quite a few of them out there.

**-o0o-**

It would suffice to say that they had been met with suspicion initially. Mahoja, Anita's aide, had looked remarkably much like she wanted to wring their necks. "You idiots," she had muttered, surveying Timothy's particularly sorry state before leaving them in one of the rooms to wait.

Narain had looked after her, wearing a somewhat thoughtful look on his face. "So that was Mahoja, huh? Rather impressive."

Krory had made a slight face at that, implying that his own opinion included not only impressive but also rather scary. It was not as though Timothy could blame him though, because Mahoja was both of those things and then some.

"_She didn't beat you senseless this time around. Must be because you're in such a state,"_ Tsukikami had noted and Timothy had scowled in return. _"Then again, maybe she's saving you for later?"_

Quite frankly, though it would probably have made sense to prepare for every eventuality, Timothy harboured no wish to second-guess.

**-o0o-**

Anita had greeted them with a faint smile, her face painted but drawn, as though she had experienced some hardship recently. Timothy did not have time to ponder the matter however, watching as her gaze passed over each of them in turn once more before finally stopping on Timothy. "Where's Allen?"

Timothy averted his eyes. He was struggling enough already, trying to keep from blinking; his eyes were threatening to overflow already, but more due to frustration than due to anything else. But no, he was not going to cry because he had cried enough already, both in solitude and in company back when he was in a state of delirium; tears of sadness, grief, helplessness, frustration and fury. Narain, Krory and Timcanpy had all seen their share but all had been gracious enough ignore them, all of them aware that Timothy did not wish to be comforted as much as he wished for them to avert their eyes while he gathered up his composure.

Anita clearly would not abide by such rules. Some part of him had expected a slap and not a hug. As such, he was unable to keep himself from flinching as she pulled him into one, mindful of his injuries. "Tim, what happened?"

It would have been so much easier if the question had been: _"What did not happen?"_

Timothy swallowed, mentally preparing himself. He had already put the story together in his head beforehand, twisting and turning it over a great number of times and repeating it inwardly to himself. However, repeating an account of the events to himself, inwardly, was by no means the same as relaying an account of them to someone else and in particular someone who had not been directly involved in said events.

"We ran into some trouble back in Calcutta," Timothy relayed at last, nodding to his companions. "Allen was‒ taken, _captured_, not‒"

Anita closed her eyes in seeming understanding, almost as if she‒ "As I feared," she offered simply.

Timothy stared, his eyes widening slightly as she reached into her sleeve. Soon thereafter, she presented him with a folded piece of paper. He took and unfolded the note, and had hardly even registered the words before his confusion was blown aside by a wave of cold fury, causing him to scrunch up the paper in his fist.

"Tim," Narain intoned and Krory hovered, both of them suddenly too close.

"I'm going to bloody kill him," Timothy professed, shaking. "I am so going to tear out his bloody‒"

"_Calm down,"_ Narain advised quietly in Hindi, giving his shoulder a very deliberate squeeze. _"The lady isn't going to let us onboard a ship if you keep saying you're going to kill her lover, is she?"_

Surprisingly, Timothy did find himself pausing at that. Question remained whether it was due to the increasing pain in his shoulder or due to the soundness of Narain's argument. "Doesn't matter," he eventually decided, opening up his clenched fist, allowing Narain to pluck the scrunched up paper from it while Krory kept hovering about with obvious concern. "Getting Allen back takes priority. I can punch Cross in the face afterwards."

Truthfully, punching Cross Marian in the face was probably the least violent of the actions Timothy longed to perform, but‒ He took another calming breath, suddenly remembering. "Anita," he made a slight gesture towards his right and then his left. "Meet Krory, a friend and fellow accommodator, and Narain, my self-appointed physician."

Narain shot him a decidedly amused glance, sliding the refolded note into his own sleeve before presenting his hand. Anita eyed him with some surprise but swiftly took and shook it. "It's a pleasure," she offered simply, unable to completely hide her curiosity. "I am Anita, the owner of this establishment."

"Narayana Agni, medical student," Narain offered up in response, a somewhat wry smile adorning his face. "And the pleasure is all ours, Miss Anita."

Krory's introduction proved a bit more stilted, as expected, but Anita flashed a quite genuine smile his way when she learned of the part that he had played so far, so it was really no wonder.

Anita rose to her feet, brushing some largely nonexistent dust off of her robes. "I can certainly procure a ship along with a crew for you, but it will be at least another day before it is ready to set sail," she said, her gaze lingering on Timothy. "According to my sources, a group of Black Order exorcists arrived in town this morning. Word has it they are looking for Cross."

Those still on the floor exchanged meaningful looks.

"Is that so?" Timothy said at last, wondering whether he ought to smile or frown. "How come?"

Smiling, Anita reached up to tuck a stray lock hair behind her ear. "Shortly before leaving for Edo, he went on something of a binge, showing himself quite openly in the street. I would certainly have footed the bill if he had asked, but instead, he‒"

"‒Decided to issue the bill to the Order, alerting them to his presence," Timothy finished, his eye twitching.

On one hand, he was decidedly irritated. On the other hand, he was pleased, or at least he would have been, had he not been fairly certain of the fact that they were all playing right into that damned bastard's hands. "Well then‒"

**-o0o-**

Having been led on a merry goose chase throughout the continent for the last couple of weeks, members of the so called Cross Unit were relieved to learn that they were no longer chasing rumours as much as they were actively tracing the steps of the man that was their mission; the decidedly elusive yet simultaneously gaudy Cross Marian.

Having made it this far, they were now quite a bit closer to accomplishing the first phase of the mission, which was to find the man. That having been said though, given that Cross had already vanished out to sea days before their arrival, most of them were quite certain that it would still be quite a while before they managed to enter the second phase, which included escorting the wayward general back to the Black Order's Headquarters; a task much easier said than done.

Considering the momentous task still ahead of them, having an influential and determined ally was a great comfort. Of course, that aside, Lavi found it a definite plus that they were not only decidedly competent but also smoking hot to the boot.

"Stop staring."

Lavi wisely averted his eyes, previous experience having taught him that continuing would have awarded him another punch or perhaps even a kick to the ribs. Mistress Anita's aide, Mahoja, showed little mercy after all, at least not after she had delivered her first and final warning.

It would seem as though Anita and her aide would both be joining the expedition, serving as the captain and the first mate, which was nice, because no one in the Cross Unit had a great deal of experience in terms of seafaring.

Lenalee Lee had none and the same applied to Miranda Lotto. Lavi did have some general knowledge, albeit mostly theoretical, so that probably left Bookman, who true to his position and occupation did not dabble in sharing important information unless it was considered absolutely necessary; not even to Lavi, his apprentice, which was annoying to say the very least.

Bookman was currently out of both sight and earshot though, having left with the others for a tea house, leaving Lavi standing there by himself on the docks, trying to keep boredom at bay through making keen observations about both his immediate surroundings and the crew, most of whom were currently occupied with loading cargo onboard the ship or with tending to the ship itself.

It had been relatively interesting to watch for maybe ten to twenty minutes or so. By now however, Lavi had already grown bored with the activity and was as such sorely tempted to return to his admiration of the mistress. But, heeding Mahoja's warning, he turned his head and dedicated the next couple of minutes to studying the spectacle from another angle.

As he had kind of anticipated, it turned out to be about as interesting as the previous one, minus the beautiful view. Speaking of which‒

"_Those damned idiots," _Mahoja muttered under her breath, and Lavi chanced a glance first at her and then in the direction she seemed to be staring, catching a glimpse of what had caught the robust woman's attention before she stalked off, her fury gone silent and quite possibly deadly.

Watching it all unfold, Lavi experienced two very conflicting urges; the urge to stay right where he was, keeping still and his gaze averted, and the urge to follow her so that he could get a better look at those who had invoked her anger, and perhaps even what they had done in order to do so.

Curiosity ultimately won out. Hoping it would all be worth it, Lavi caught up just in time to witness Mahoja grabbing one of them by the neck, dragging them closer, hissing something that Lavi unfortunately did not catch. Something Lavi did catch however was the looks he got from the remaining two, and he also did not fail to notice the looks they exchanged afterwards.

As Lavi had been able to observe, the crew was, as one would expect, Chinese, and so was the guy still dangling from Mahoja's grip. The other two meanwhile did not seem very local. One of them looked decidedly European and the other decidedly Indian; both locations were far too distant for it _not_ to be considered strange for them to be there.

Unfortunately, Lavi found that he had no more time to observe them when Mahoja finally released her fury in the form of violence, starting off by kneeing the first guy in the stomach, largely indifferent as he doubled over in pain.

"_Narain,"_ Mahoja finally hissed, and the Indian guy tore his eyes away from his downed comrade, paying no attention to the comrade partially hiding behind him. "When the Little Idiot wakes up, tell him I'll wring his little neck if this happens again."

The guy pulled off a makeshift salute; the wrist glimpsed inside the sleeve was covered in thick bandages. "Yes, ma'am."

He got cuffed on the head for that but hardly winced. His taller comrade meanwhile looked ready to cower, remaining stiff behind him even as Mahoja swept past, stepping over the prone body of their third without batting an eyelid and grabbing a fistful of Lavi's jacket midstride, proceeding to drag him away from the scene.

The quiet fury had still not dissipated, but Lavi chanced a question anyway, because on the inside he was immensely curious as to what had just occurred; he had clearly missed out something in the exchange, and seeing to the fact that he had nothing better to do, pursuing the matter lay close at hand. "So, what was that all about?"

Mahoja scoffed openly at that, but said nothing until she had dragged him all the way back to where it had all started. "Nothing," she sneered at last, sending another dark look the way they had come. "Nothing whatsoever."

**-o0o-**

"They got into a fight recently," Anita volunteered once Lavi had taken the opportunity to ask as they made it out onto the open sea. "Tim still hasn't made a complete recovery, so…"

She trailed off, and Lavi mentally questioned why she had viewed it as necessary to include someone injured onboard such a potentially dangerous mission. Then again, considering that, then Anita's decision to join the expedition herself would have been equally questionable, had it not been for the fact that her hand-picked crew would probably not have taken orders from anyone else.

After having concluded a general strategy meeting in the captain's cabin, the members of the Cross (Location and Retrieval) Unit had dispersed, Lenalee dragging Miranda along to clean up; Lavi rather wished that he could have joined them, but had obviously known better than to ask. After all, though they had spent some time at port, they had not utilised that time in order to properly clean up after making the journey to Shanghai. Lavi himself was not all that vain though; he had roughed it out before, but the journey ahead of them was highly unlikely to feature any luxuries like hot water or really anything but the most basic of the basic, and if possible, then he would have liked not to have to think about those. Really, it almost made him wish that it would have taken Anita and her crew more time to prepare the ship. In times like these though, each day or even hour or minute counted, sometimes making the difference between life and death.

Still, out at sea, they were decidedly vulnerable; though there were some safety with their numbers and with the skills of certain individuals, fact still remained that their destination was Japan, the Earl's stronghold, and all that. Of course, at the same time, Lavi had to admit, at least to himself, that he felt a tingle of excitement at the thought; of the knowledge that he would most certainly come to witness some pivotal moment in history. Granted, being there to witness said event would hardly be meaningful if no one who lived to record it.

Restless, he had found himself out on deck, leaning against the railing. Night had already fallen, the land at the horizon long gone and the only lights being the moon, the stars and a few on the ship. Most of the crew was either beneath the deck or busy with their own tasks. There was probably a lookout of some sort, possibly even a number of them, but before his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Lavi really had no real way of knowing. However, he did figure that they probably would not mind another addition to their ranks. After all, in the case of an akuma attack, ordinary people could only do so much.

Maybe in thinking that he had jinxed himself somehow, because he had hardly even been at his post for an hour before he had caught a glimpse of something in the waves beneath him and had foolishly leaned over the railing instead of instantly raising the alarm. Really, it almost served him right to get struck from behind.

The painful impact with the surface was a good a wakeup call as any, even if it was to the realisation that he literally only had seconds left to live; the akuma virus was spreading rapidly in his veins, so there was really nothing that he could do to‒

In the last vestiges of consciousness, he thought saw something; a cloud of bubbles, oxygen fleeing back to the surface while water rushed in to take its place. Following it was an unbelievable surge of pain in his neck, in the exact area that had been struck and that had gone numb the quickest. It was puzzling to say the very least, but he hardly had time to do more than register what was happening before there was a sudden rush. The next thing he knew, he was dropped none too gently onto a hard, wooden surface; the deck.

Lying there, Lavi found that he could both sense and hear the flurry of activity taking place upon it; raised voices and running footsteps surrounded him. There were also fingers on his throat, undeniably warm in comparison to the rest of him, because he was freezing. Was he dying? Well, he was coughing, so‒

"Ary," a semi-familiar voice muttered from above, barely heard above the shouts of his latest alias. "I'll handle this. You and Tim handle the‒"

The ship lurched violently, scattered screams and shouts following the sudden motion and a muffled curse from above. In spite of his near death experience, Lavi was quick to recover both his sight and his wits. Granted, he was still groggy and more than a little dazed, but there was a hand on his arm, steadying him as he sat himself up, trying to gauge the situation at hand. Somehow, Lavi was not all that surprised to find that it belonged to one of the trio from before, the Indian guy, Narain, who shot him a quick look before refocusing on the mostly airborne fighting taking place on and around the ship. One, two, three‒was that a total of four Level Threes?

The realisation quickly had Lavi back on his feet, readying his anti-akuma weapon. Lenalee and Bookman were engaging one enemy each while a third person seemed to be dealing with two. Lavi swiftly made a move to remedy the fact, zeroing in on the akuma that was at that moment idle. However, before he could do much more than enlarge his mallet, there were fingers on his wrist.

"Don't interfere," their maybe-ally intoned, tightening their grip as Lavi attempted to pull himself loose. "You'll get in the way."

For a brief moment, Lavi just stared at him, temporarily stunned. Even so, he readily adapted. "Alright," he agreed, dipping his head slightly. "I'll just‒"

The grip relented, and Lavi pulled himself free. "Go," the guy instructed, readily dismissing Lavi, who was not late to obey.

Even boosted by their newfound allies, it had not been very easy for them to fight and ultimately defeat the Level Threes. For a while there, things had become really dangerous for Lenalee, who had been engaging one of the akuma out on the open sea.

The odds had been decidedly unfavourable, at least up until the point when there was an intervention. The tall European guy from before had literally descended from above. He had soon been followed by the fourth Level Three that had collided face first with the other akuma, resulting in a flash of light.

In the moments of confusion that had followed, Lenalee's previous foe had apparently muttered something about a bloody headache and then promptly released her from the gravity-amplifying bonds previously hampering her movements.

They had all made it back to ship in one piece, and once everyone was out on deck, explanations were indeed long overdue, given that there were now not only one but actually two akuma interacting with one half of the combatants.

Surprisingly, it was Anita herself who took the initiative, clearing her throat. "Members of the Cross Unit," she said, making a slight gesture towards the other group. "Meet members of the Cross Team."

There were sputters of disbelief from one side and one out of outrage from the other.

Really, an explanation was definitely overdue.

**-o0o-**

"I'm going to kill him."

"Tim."

"I am so going to tear out his bloody‒"

"Tim."

"Converting akuma? That's what he's been doing after‒"

"_Tim."_

"‒Never mind his guts, I'm going straight for the‒"

"_**Tim,"**_ Narain intoned, Krory hovering about them both; déjà vu. _"__**Calm down**__. You said so yourself, didn't you? You can punch Cross in the face __**afterwards**__."_

"You're gonna punch Cross in the what now?"

That brought them to a pause and their attention to the Bookman apprentice.

"So, uh…"

"This is awkward."

"No shit, Krory, no shit."

"You know, Tim, this would probably be a lot less awkward if it didn't look like we were having this conversation with a Level Three."

"Narain, I'm this close to strangling you."

"Good."

"_Good?!"_

**-o0o-**

Obviously, it had taken more than an introduction and an explanation of sorts to clear things up.

Naturally, the members of the Cross Unit had been somewhat shocked to discover what Anita had kept from them; a team of unofficial exorcists led by none other than Cross Marian's apprentice. Naturally, they were curious but also inherently suspicious, considering the timing and everything.

Both curiosity and suspicion ultimately led to the same thing however; gathering intelligence.

Timothy would have very much liked to keep his latest vessel, the Level Three; possessing that, he had felt a lot better about things, mostly because then he had been able to move around, even float in the air, without having to mind troublesome matters such as broken bones.

Granted, it had made people regard him with either suspicion or dread. This applied especially in the case of the Cross-modified Level Two who had found them out at sea; she had quivered and stuttered when in close proximity to him, supposedly because of some instinctual fear of higher level akuma. Even so, Timothy had managed to extract relevant details even in the form of a Level Three. Of course, he had almost started a row soon after that.

And now, he was largely confined to a chair in the captain's cabin, mulling over recent events.

Narain, that secretive bastard, was out on deck again, no doubt fraternising with the enemy. They all seemed fairly taken with him after all, especially after the display that had taken place hours earlier.

"Honestly, that guy," muttered the Level Two, now in her human form and decidedly more at ease with Timothy the human. "‒Surprised me, for real! So scary!"

Timothy could do little more than hum in agreement, and even Timcanpy beat his wings to signal something of the sort. Still‒ "Sachiko‒"

"Cho-me-su-ke."

"Why?"

"Because it's cute, that's why! I really like it."

It was the Bookman apprentice, Lavi, who had dubbed her Chomesuke. Her real name however may or may not have been Sachiko; Timothy recalled as much from his initial interrogation. So far, none of them had been able to observe any special abilities beyond shape shifting, which was a pretty basic ability as far as akuma went. All in all, she did not seem to know all that much about Cross' plans either, not that Timothy had honestly expected it; Cross would after all rather keep people in the dark than enlighten them, especially so if they were intended as disposable pawns from the very start. "Chomesuke."

"Yes, Sir Apprentice?"

Timothy did his best not to twitch; her mannerisms aside, she did it largely without any malicious intent after all. Unlike Narain, the bastard‒ "That thing you mentioned earlier; is it true? The self-destruction thing."

She averted her eyes at that, hiding her face behind one of her long sleeves; she was wearing a kimono of some sort, with long sleeves ‒ a _furisode_ perhaps? Either way, it was pink and suited her humanoid appearance, giving her a kind of elegance compared to her decidedly bulky true form. Her humanoid appearance also made it decidedly easier for Timothy to read her expression, since she had next to no poker face to speak of. "My revised programming has suppressed my inherent bloodlust, but it is ultimately temporary. When it resurfaces, I am to self-destruct; it is the same for all converted akuma, Sir Apprentice."

Timothy pinched the ridge of his nose, reining in the resurfacing urge to plot his master's imminent doom. "Can it be altered; reset?"

She hesitated. "I don't want to turn back," she offered up at last, eyeing him seriously. "I was sent as additional support and I will strive do just that for as long as I can. After that, provided I live that long, I will either self-destruct… or be destroyed by you, am I right?"

Timothy took a moment to consider her as well as Timcanpy, who was nestled in her hair. "I've never seen what an akuma's soul looks like when it self-destructs, but I know it isn't pretty."

Chomesuke said nothing at that, fiddling with her sleeves. Tsukikami meanwhile regarded her from across the room, narrowing his eyes in obvious disapproval; unseen save for Timothy, as always.

"_You know," _Tsukikami said at last, appearing right next to Timothy, almost leering at him. _"It is by no means too late to repeat the process with that one, Great Master of mine."_

Just thinking of it made Timothy feel vaguely sick.

"_Honestly though, that Narain. Really, I applaud his ingenuity in regards to purifying the akuma virus, but to suggest draining the Level Three before letting me destroy it? That's some impressive shit right there, Master."_

Really, it was some impressive shit; though conflicted about some aspects of it, Timothy had to admit as much. Impressive yes, but no less sickening.

**-o0o-**

"So, where's your third?"

Narain and Krory looked up, finally acknowledging the Bookman apprentice where he stood, quite close to them now. "Is that a joke?" Narain offered up at last, covering up a yawn.

Krory meanwhile said nothing, simply regarding Lavi with caution. The Bookman apprentice remained undeterred, the friendly smile unfaltering. "Never mind that then. Have you guys had lunch yet? If you wait too long, you might have to go hungry. Unless you're on a liquid diet, that is."

Krory looked vaguely guilty and embarrassed at that. Narain meanwhile bared his teeth, flashing a quite sharp smile Lavi's way, his eyes levelling on the bandaged throat. "Is that an offer to continue being Ary's donor, Apprentice?"

The apprentice actually paled at that, albeit only fraction. It did not take him very long to recover though.

**-o0o-**

"So, is it just me or are your portions decidedly larger than mine?"

Krory actually snorted at that, and Narain openly rolled his eyes at it. "Parasitic type," he gestured to Krory. "Also, we're at least fifty percent of the reason why most of them are not dead now, seventy-five counting Tim. I guess that'd make us either double or three times more useful than your party."

The apprentice opened his mouth. "Idiot apprentice," Bookman cut in, making a vague gesture toward the tea pot. "Make yourself useful."

"Yeah, yeah, got it." Muttering, the apprentice moved to do just that, his place soon being claimed by Lenalee Lee.

"Hi. Sorry about Lavi. He's just so curious."

"So are you."

Her friendly smile did not falter in the least; Narain was mildly impressed. "Can you blame us?"

As a matter of fact, he really could not. "Fine, we've been over this already, but fine," he sighed, putting down his now empty bowl. "Narayana Agni, Narain for short, sixteen years old, Indian."

"India, you say?"

"Yep."

"We've got a cook over at Headquarters who's from India. His name is Jer‒"

"Good for him. Personally, I'm studying to become a doctor. Or rather, I was, up until recently."

Hearing that made them all pause. "How recently?" Bookman asked at last, considering them both.

Narain tilted his head slightly, looking to Krory. "It's been two weeks, right, Ary?"

He got a rather puzzled look for that, prompting him to elaborate. "Tim was either pretty incoherent or comatose at the time, so‒"

"Comatose?" their attentive audience repeated, leaning in.

Narain lifted his tea cup to his lips, regarding them on top of it. "Yeah," he said at last. "Still, considering the opponent, I'd say they're lucky they're not dead."

"The opponent?" Lenalee echoed, moments before Lavi did the same.

Timothy would probably have some issues with him and the information he was disclosing; Narain was quite aware of that. Still, at this rate, it would be better to spin a relatively truthful and believable tale to earn the trust of the Black Order operatives at a relatively early stage rather than later, considering Allen. Surely, Timothy would get that, and if he did not catch on immediately, then he would probably realise it eventually, wouldn't he?

Narain took another sip of tea, first considering and then reconsidering before finally arriving at a tentative conclusion. "Ary."

"Yes, Narain?"

"Would you mind keeping an eye on things out here? I need to have a few words with our esteemed leader."

Krory nodded.

The Bookman apprentice moved to rise.

"In private."

The apprentice sat back down, smiling sheepishly.

**-o0o-**


	8. Repositioning

_Long time no update._

**-o0o-**

**Repositioning**

**-o0o-**

No one had kept track of just how long it took. However, Lavi would have estimated that it had been more than just a few minutes since Chomesuke had joined them out on the deck; she had looked decidedly relieved when she was booted from the captain's cabin to allow the others the privacy they had obviously aimed for.

Initially, the rest of them had all been keeping an eye on the door and listened intently, but if anyone of them had actually managed to make out anything of what was said, then they did not share it with the rest of them. Krory, curiously left out on the private strategy meeting, did not seem overly worried however, a fact which was even more curious in Lavi's private opinion.

"They need to have words, and I'd rather not be in the way," the man stated simply, nodding to himself. "I do understand both of their viewpoints, yes, but this is in part a matter between the two of them and not the three of us."

Lavi would have loved to ask more about what this matter concerned, but he was ultimately robbed of the opportunity as the door to the captain's cabin suddenly flew open, revealing the pair they had only just discussed; a clearly displeased-looking Timothy Hearst supporting himself on a crutch and a visibly unfazed Narain, who gave the rest of them a smile and a slight wave.

**-o0o-**

Ten minutes into the impromptu strategy meeting that ensued, Lavi was only a tiny bit closer to understanding the trio. All in all, their obvious differences aside, Lavi would have expected them to present a united front. Instead, their apparent leader seemed perfectly content with sitting on the sidelines, clearly listening but not offering up much input, much like Bookman, who seemed largely content to sip his tea in peace. Miranda was also pretty quiet, probably because she was at a bit of a loss as for what to say. Krory seemed to be in a similar situation, relatively fine with speaking to individuals but decidedly uncomfortable to address a larger group.

Earlier, Anita had also been present, but at this point she had left to converse with Mahoja about making fine adjustments to the course, seemingly content with leaving exorcist matters to the exorcists.

Ultimately, this left Lavi and Lenalee to do much of the talking, even with Narain offering up some comments every now and then. It seemed sensible for them to take stock of their fighting capabilities, seeing that as of now, the two groups knew far too little about each other's skills and whatnot.

"So, all things taken into consideration, we have‒"

"Equipment types," Lavi noted, twirling the miniature version of his hammer between his fingers. "Miranda who's purely defensive, Lenalee who's largely offensive, and Bookman and me who dabble in both. If I had to guess, then Narain's another offensive equipment type and Krory and Tim are parasitic. Did I get it right?"

"Almost," Narain offered up, shooting a fairly amused look Timothy's way and gaining a mildly disdainful one in return.

"Tim's equipment then?" Lenalee tried, but Narain only chuckled.

"We're all parasitic," he finally offered up, decidedly amused by the looks of surprise sent his way.

Well, wasn't that a surprise…

"You're parasitic?" Lenalee asked, looking for confirmation.

Narain dipped his head slightly. "That's right."

"But those bracelets‒"

Narain lifted his hand slightly, pulling aside the sleeve to reveal one of them. "These?"

"Those," Lavi latched on, undeniably curious. "What are they made of? Besides Innocence, I mean."

Narain smiled. "Blood."

A number of people, Lavi included, startled. _"Blood?!"_

"Blood," Narain affirmed, pulling his sleeve back down. "My blood, to be specific."

His brain rapidly processing this new, intriguing and rather disturbing piece of information, Lavi could not help but comment on it. "Gee, what's wrong with you people? The first steals bodies, the second is powered by blood and the third uses it as a weapon."

Timothy snorted. Krory looked mildly embarrassed. Narain meanwhile looked thoughtful, yet simultaneously amused. "Well, if you put it like that. Personally, I think the way we became like this is way more ironic."

Lavi opened his mouth but Lenalee proved quicker. "You mean none of you were born with it?"

Shining his nails on the front of his shirt, Narain snorted. "Tch, nope. Tim got his shoved down his throat, I swallowed mine willingly and Ary got bitten by a plant and lost all his teeth."

Again, the information took a moment or so to register, giving others the time to react. "Narain, you little‒"

"Wai‒wai‒wait!" Lavi held up his hands, looking from one to the other. "Is it true?"

"Of course it's true," Narain deadpanned. "Would I ever lie to you?"

"Well‒" Actually‒

Narain tiled his head slightly. "Would Ary lie to you?"

Well, truth to be told, Lavi was not entirely sure. Granted, Krory seemed to be the least likely to lie out of the bunch, but that was only saying so much.

"Krory," Timothy spat, glaring first at him and then at Narain. "I did not tell you about my past in confidence just so that you could blab about it without my consent. The same goes for you, Narain."

So that meant it was all‒ "Or else what? Strangulation?"

Lenalee, Miranda and Krory all looked mildly horrified at that, looking from Narain, who had said it, to Timothy, who soon answered. "That depends. Can you swim?"

Harmless banter or not, it was by no means productive. "Guys."

"Well, can you?" Timothy challenged, completely ignoring Lavi's attempts to gain their attention.

"Guys," Lavi tried again, only to be ignored once again by Narain, who smiled dangerously.

"You'd really like to know that wouldn't you, Tim?" Narain commented, and Lavi realised he had definitely had enough.

"Guys, come on!" he tried, physically grabbing onto Narain's arm to prevent him from rising. "Cut it out!"

"Narain, _you_‒" Timothy started, only to be held back by a firm grip on his shoulder.

"_**Tim,"**_ Krory uttered, and Timothy finally relented, sitting back down even while retaining the decidedly unfriendly glare his comrade's way.

Lavi himself, and just about anyone else for that matter, was honestly not entirely certain as to what to think. Personally, Lavi had definitely pegged Narain as the mediator of the group. In the current situation though, Narain seemed less like a mediator and more intent on provocation. This was an interesting but also decidedly worrying development, considering how the two groups would probably be working together from now on.

"Tim," Narain spoke up, but something about the inflection told Lavi that the other was not addressing their leader. "Show them."

"Tim," Timothy snapped in turn as the golem fluttered over to Narain. "Don't you dare! If you do it, then I'll freaking disassemble you and feed your parts to a bunch of stray cats!"

The threat was seemingly disregarded though, seeing that the golem settled upon Narain's held up palm and opened its mouth. _'Why does it have teeth?'_ was all that Lavi himself managed before a somewhat grainy recording started playing. It hardly got to play very long before Narain placed his hand on top of Timcanpy's head, prompting the golem to stop.

"Then tell them yourself," Narain offered simply, settling Timcanpy on top of his head. "About Allen."

Timothy looked like he would much rather strangle Narain than do anything of the sort, but after Krory had placed a hand on his shoulder, his expression gradually settled into a less murderous one.

"Who's Allen?" Lenalee asked at last, her voice soft.

Timothy averted his eyes, evidently not very keen on discussing the subject. "Allen is‒"

"Allen is Timothy's little brother."

It was Anita who had spoken, newly returned, flanked by Mahoja.

"Little… brother?"

Multiple gazes were directed towards Timothy, but he avoided all of them. Krory meanwhile looked at Narain who, sighing, turned to face Anita and the rest. "Allen is also a parasitic type. He saved me once from my own stupidity, so the least I can do is to lay down my life to save Tim from his."

"Whoa, whoa, hang on a sec now," Lavi insisted, because that didn't really explain anything. "Innocence accommodator or not, where does Tim's little brother come into this?"

Surprisingly, it was Timothy himself who answered. "We got ambushed in Calcutta by some Noah."

"Tyki Mikk," Narain helpfully supplied, his insight raising even more questions.

"He took Allen," Timothy relayed through gritted teeth, obviously not keen discussing the issue.

"After nearly killing the others," Narain filled in, arms folded across his chest. "Let me tell you, it wasn't a pretty sight, neither during nor afterwards."

Whoa. "And you? Where do you come into all of this?"

Narain shrugged mildly. "After I learned that there was a Noah out looking for them, I went to warn them. I didn't make it in time for Allen, but I doubt I would've made much of a difference to be completely honest."

Lavi turned his head, looking towards Timothy and Krory now. "You mean to say that this Noah ‒ Tyki Mikk, you say? ‒ was after you? _Specifically_?"

Timothy smiled sardonically at that. "The Earl had given the guy an enchanted hit list, and one of our names just happened to be on it."

Lavi found himself blinking at that, and he probably wasn't the only one. "Enchanted hit list?"

Timothy reached into his pocket, retrieving something that was about the size of a playing card, glaring at it for a few moments before angling it so that the rest of them could get a better look. Seeing it, some recoiled. Lavi meanwhile leaned closer, because man, what was that?

"Cell Roron," Narain noted, stepping around to claim a seat beside Lavi and Bookman. "The Prisoner of the List Cage."

**-o0o-**

_Top hat. Suit. Grey skin. Amber-coloured eyes. Lips curled into a definite smirk._

"_Now tell me‒"_

_A card was produced from a pocket, held up and inspected._

"_Which of you would happen to be Allen Walker?"_

_Surprise and satisfaction. Stalling. Probing._

"_You people honestly didn't get the memo? Strange, seeing that we went through the trouble of introducing ourselves and everything‒"_

"_Well, we're not exactly in the Order, are we?"_

_Positioning._

_The flare of an Innocence being invoked._

_Timothy's tight voice; his orders._

_Krory snatching Allen up‒_

_Timothy attacking‒_

_Black butterflies swarming‒_

_Static._

"_Not so fast, exorcists."_

_Static._

_Blood in the muddy waters‒_

_Audible distress, struggles‒_

_Water splashing‒_

_Travelling at dizzying speeds‒_

_Making impact, getting swatted away‒_

_Static._

_A weakly coughing boy being pulled from the shallows‒_

_Voices._

_Static._

_Voices._

_Level Threes._

_Static._

_Blood in the water._

_Stirring._

_No Noah, no boy._

_Level Threes closing in._

_Then, one was struck by a small disk of light whistling through the air._

_A rush of wet blackness, a ferocious snarl‒_

_Water._

_Timothy's body ‒ pale, bleeding and unmoving ‒ lay in the shallows, partially submerged._

_The shining disk again, whistling through the air._

_Splashes of water and then, briefly, just stillness._

_Then, there was the sound of running footsteps in the water, and then a view of Narain up close. He too was bleeding, fresh stigmata on each of his wrists, and seemingly struggling to control his breathing. He swore under his breath ‒ even without understanding the language, that much was obvious ‒ and looked over his shoulder._

**-o0o-**

Somewhere along the line, Timothy had very nearly forgotten all about Timcanpy's recordings of the battle. Well, to be specific he had not so much forgotten as he had put it out of his mind, distracted by one thing or the other, reasoning that he did not need to experience his latest defeat through another's perspective. Still, when it all came down to it, he still did it and more than once at that. Even though it had been a painful experience, both living it and reliving it, it was still a learning experience. Timothy had watched the thing to find chinks in their own movements, yes, but mostly in order to study the movements of their enemy, trying to discern their special abilities. So far, he had determined that gravity was not necessarily an issue for their foe, which was an annoying and worrying thing indeed. Granted, it was not as worrying as Krory's claim that he had seen the man literally phasing through physical matter.

Narain meanwhile had little to add on the issue. However, as Timothy had learned only very recently, Narain had gained his information from more than one source. The information gleaned from Suman Dark had been limited to the existence of Tyki Mikk, his motives and the list he carried. The Prisoner of the List Cage however was, although tedious to deal with, a minor treasure trove of information if one knew the right questions to ask and the right threats to make. Granted, the information it had was still limited, but one piece of information in particular had ranked miles above the rest.

The walls of the Cell Roron's prison cell were covered entirely in names; the walls and the ceilings. Though Timothy was on one hand intrigued by how there were such a number of people that the Earl wanted dead in particular, he had only registered them in passing, the brunt of his attention focused elsewhere.

"_It's not coming off, it's not coming off,"_ the Cell Roron had wailed, scrubbing the walls in vain while Timothy had watched, momentarily too stunned to do much else.

"If it doesn't come off, then that means that the person is still alive," Narain had informed him over the sound of the Cell Roron's wailing. "From what I've understood, the design is that the names will light up in case the person is near."

In other words‒ "Why did you keep this from me?"

Narain had shrugged mildly at that. "You may consider it my revenge if you like."

"Revenge? For what?"

Shooting a meaningful look Timothy's way, Narain had given his own jaw a slight stroke.

"That thing again?! You sure know how to hold onto a grudge."

"That makes two of us, doesn't it?" Narain had noted. "Two self-sacrificing idiots, two peas in a pod."

Timothy had opted to pretend that he didn't hear that. "Will you ever let it go, for fuck's sake?"

"On one condition," Narain had said, and Timothy had known beforehand that he certainly wouldn't like it. "Spill the beans."

"What?! No bloody way!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's fucking dangerous!"

"Gee, you think? Still, it's not like you need to spill everything, just enough. I suppose keeping everything to yourself is also an option, but do you want these people to trust us or not?"

Frankly‒ "I don't care either way."

"Well, if so, then you must be even more brain damaged than I thought."

"Brain damaged?"

"Well, there is that, but there's also the issue with Cross."

"With that bastard?"

"You know, for all that you're calling him that, you're becoming more and more like him."

That‒ "That can't be‒"

Narain had cocked his head to the side, regarding Timothy steadily. "Ary has never met him, so of course he cannot tell. I however have, and let me tell you: It's an uncanny resemblance."

"You can't be serious."

"I can't?"

"No."

Narain had shrugged mildly at that. "Well, I might have exaggerated some. At this rate though, it's only a question of time. That isn't my point though."

"And what is your point?" Timothy had asked.

"My point is that you need to stop pretending like this issue concerns only you," Narain had snapped, evidently annoyed. "It concerns Krory, it concerns me and, to some extent, it also concerns them. Besides, there really isn't much point in getting Allen back if we cannot be sure the Order won't try to kill him if he does indeed have a connection to the Noah, is there?"

Painful as it might have been for Timothy to admit, Narain had definitely had a point. Still‒ "It's too dangerous. I won't do it."

"It's even more dangerous to let them draw their own conclusions," Narain had snorted, arms folded across his chest. "Besides‒"

"Besides what?"

Narain had tilted his head slightly, levelling Timothy with a chill-inducing smile. "If you don't, then I'll just have Timcanpy show them. Every little thing, from India to Shanghai. Everything."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh really?" Narain had smiled, looking disturbingly pleased. "Are you sure?"

With a sigh, Timothy had finally given in. "I hate you," he had muttered, moving to rise. _"Bastard."_

"That's good," Narain had intoned, infuriatingly calm as he handed over Timothy's crutch.

"One day, you'll definitely pay for this, Narain."

"Perhaps."

"I'll make you pay."

"You do that. Better not put it off too long though, all things considered."

"Morbid."

"Perhaps, but true nevertheless."

**-o0o-**


End file.
